Lullaby
by sinfinity
Summary: He's not quite sure what he's doing with his life. Just that it hasn't gone as planned, and now he's in way over his head. [ WIP ]
1. Daddy

_**Lullaby**_

_Copyright Notes: I don't own any of the wonderful characters of Fullmetal Alchemist, though I wish I did. Any characters you don't recognize are mine. Obviously._

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He didn't remember ever asking for a kid. Not that he didn't positively adore the human perpetual motion experiment; he just didn't find it to be very fair. _She_ was the one who wanted kids. Hell, _she_ was the one who wanted to get married too. And look where both of those had gotten him: in the middle of a divorce with a kid he didn't know how to care for, and close to moving back into military housing for not paying bills.

And then he'd just have to see _her_ more.

The last he heard about her was that she moved into housing again after lasting only a month or two with her mother. He laughed to himself a bit at that thought. _That woman always was a bitter, self-indulgent bitch._ He paused at the thought, contemplating why he suddenly felt a surge of guilt. This was terribly unlike him, so it was immediately expelled from his brain with interrupting thoughts of _Like mother, like daughter _and a satisfied grin. _Though it did serve her right to have to suffer by-_

"Daddy?"

The tiny voice startled him. He hadn't noticed the little girl lying with her head gently on his lap had awoken. He managed to put together a mumbled, "Yes sweetie?"

"Daddy, aren't you going to answer the door?"

He hadn't even heard the persistent pounding on the door. Swiftly throwing a white t-shirt over his head, he rose to walk across the room. With his head already through and one arm tangled up in a twisted sleeve, he opened the door without looking through the peephole first.

Mistake number one.

A rush of blue clothes and hot air flew inside, nearly knocking him over from the force of the door swinging.

"_HAVOC GOD DAMMIT! Where the FUCK have you been? I've been trying for the past TWO WEEKS to get a hold-" _ Refreshing. He couldn't say he didn't miss the sight of Mustang_. "-haven't shown up at the office, won't answer any-"_ He couldn't say he missed the yelling though. _"-obviously haven't fucking cleaned the damn place; I THOUGHT we had this shit figured-"_ Ok, so maybe the yelling was a _bit_ justified, but Jesus Roy…wrap it up. He shifted his weight, arms folded, and watched Roy madly pace across the room, his white gloved hands flailing wildly as he spoke. _"-and I've been DEFENDING you! And I come here to see-"_ Spoke? Screamed. Screamed louder than he'd ever recalled Roy screaming, actually.

"_-and Jesus fucking Christ Havoc, FIX YOUR DAMN SHIRT!"_

Havoc glanced down, seeing the shirt still bunched, covering only one arm and obviously barely any of his chest. Never the one to be bashful, he defiantly put his hands on his hips and coolly said, "But that's the look I'm going for. I call it 'Sexy Disheveled.'" He struck a pose and ran a hand down his muscles. "Don't act like you're not impr-"

WHACK. On the ground.

Mistake number two.

"Do not joke about this Havoc," Roy said as he leaned over Havoc's body, his right hand placed firmly around the neck of his victim. "I am not in the mood." He pivoted sharply on his heels and faced the hallway.

"I see that…" Havoc mumbled.

Looking over his shoulder, Roy sneered, "What was that?" and then there was just the glare. The famous (or maybe infamous) Mustang stare that everyone feared – military or otherwise. Havoc was not immune.

"Nothing…" he managed, one hand busy rubbing the left side of his jaw as the other wriggled his shirt finally into place. He didn't recall ever being hit by Roy, and never so hard by anyone. For a moment he pitied any man who'd ever fought the Colonel. Of course he supposed that was with good reason; no man to fight Mustang had ever won. The great majority ended up charred to perfection, just well-done enough to sustain life but not retreat. It was a talent, that's for sure.

After a moment he tried to gather himself, pushed up from the ground, and rose to…see no one in the room? Listening carefully, he faintly made out a barely audible sob and a low rumbling, but still soothing voice. He followed the noise, trailing back to the tiny yellow room at the end of the hall. The voice became distinct now, as did the sobs, and he paused outside the doorway.

"But-but-but…but you hit Daddy Uncle Roy! And-and…you said the words he says that I'm not supposed to say! And Mommy yelled at me when I said those, and you should get yelled at too!"

It was sweet really. After everything he'd just gotten yelled at for (which was all indisputably true), she still defended him. _Adults don't seem to have that loyalty_, he thought to himself with a resentment he blamed solely on one woman. A sense of irony crept through him.

"And I promise I will get yelled at. But sometimes big people get mad at each other and don't act the way they know they should. And I'm already very sorry for hitting Daddy; I'll tell him that right away. It's ok to get mad, but we just have to make sure we fix things. Because if we don't say sorry, we end up-"

"Like Mommy and Daddy?"

Silence.

Havoc peered around the corner. The poor girl was curled in a tiny ball in the corner of her tiny bed grasping her tiny blue blanket that Roy himself had given her. Roy squatted at the side of the bed holding out his hands, maybe in hopes that they'd be grasped by tiny fingers. _Maybe I should field this one,_ he thought, and decided quickly it was best.

"There you are angel…Daddy's sorry about all the noise."

The small girl seemed to fly off the bed and across the room, landing precisely on top of Havoc's right foot and promptly attaching herself to his leg.

"It's ok Daddy, I won't tell Mommy about the bad words."

He feigned a smile.


	2. Human Perfection

He walked into the kitchen, absentmindedly scratching his head as he yawned. Taking that deep breath in, he noticed something strange…something that had been missing from his home for about as long as a woman had.

"Did you have to take it upon yourself to make coffee?" Sitting there at his kitchen table was Roy, sipping at his still steaming mug.

"Well I _was_ hungry, but the food choices of ketchup and baking soda left something to be desired. Coffee was an afterthought, though kudos for having some. I was thoroughly shocked." And he raised his mug as if to toast Havoc, took a sip, and lowered it, not surprisingly revealing a smug grin. He had apparently calmed down in the twenty minutes Havoc had spent putting his daughter to sleep.

"Right. Thanks," Havoc replied sarcastically. "Did you fell it was necessary to clean my table too?" His eyes scanned the now perfectly stacked papers, a cup filled neatly with pencils, and all other miscellaneous items now meticulously arranged.

"And I thought it would go unnoticed. Shame on me." Havoc glared at him. "Calm down Jean, I just threw some stuff away, organized things…it's not like this place doesn't need it."

At that, Havoc's eyes left Roy's and met the floor. An overwhelming sense of embarrassment engulfed him. Of all people to see the state of things in his life, why did it have to be Mustang? The great Colonel Mustang, the very model of military – no – HUMAN perfection. It took a lot for Havoc to feel any shame whatsoever, but the mere presence of Mustang could do that to anyone. And, contrary to popular belief, it went beyond his striking good looks. It was how he carried himself.

Even now, lounging casually at the table and stirring his still cooling coffee, he projected an aura of importance. Maybe it was his uniform, which he wore so well and so often that you'd swear he was more comfortable in that than his own skin. Or maybe it was his attitude, constant, unrelenting confidence in any circumstance, combined with his ability to look down his nose at anyone - regardless of how much shorter or taller than he they were. Or maybe it was how neatly he was always kept, like servants dressed him in the morning and were the ones actually behind his impeccable cleanliness. _Ah who am I kidding…It's his looks._

"Jean, stop being proud and sit."

He found it funny that Mustang viewed his stern face just then as proud when it was really the most humiliated he recalled being in quite some time. And also funny that he was being _told_ to sit down in his own house. "This isn't work Roy, you don't have to tell me what to do," he snapped, but he sat down as he said it.

"I am quite aware of that. But remind yourself; you're the one who listened to me." _Bastard._"Honestly, I didn't come here as your superior demanding to know why you haven't been at work. I came here as your friend," and he leaned forward, resting both forearms on the table.

"Coulda' fooled me," Havoc huffed, his arms and leaning back into the chair, seemingly to avoid the intensity that Mustang had brought, quite literally, to the table.

"I wasn't trying to fool you dammit, I'm trying to help you." _Right._ "Here…" and Mustang began to unbutton his coat. "We get rid of this…and I'm just like you. Look-" and he tossed it to the floor. "I'm not even gonna pick it up!"

Havoc couldn't stifle his laugh at that. "Yet."

Roy actually laughed a genuine laugh, which was a rare occurrence. That smile. That perfect, brilliant white smile that made women swoon and men question their sexuality. Or at least that's what Havoc had been told. He never saw it. Nope. Loved women, through and through. Maybe too much. Maybe _that_ was the problem.

"Alright Jean, all joking aside. I came here to talk, and I don't care what you do to avoid it and how many more times I have to hit you, we're going to figure this out again. By the way, I promised I'd apologize and I don't break promises, so I really am truly sorry that I let my temper get the best of me earlier. But that doesn't mean I won't do it again and I hope you remember that." There seemed to be a real sense of sorrow in his voice when he apologized that staggered Havoc, but didn't disarm him.

"Thanks but could you just go easy on the lectu-"

"No. I've gone easy before. You can't handle going easy, because then you throw away all the responsibility that easy gives you. Jesus Havoc…what have you done here?" If he had an answer for that, any answer, then was the time to say it. Lord knows there was a long enough silence for a smartass remark. Maybe that's why Roy was waiting for; preparing himself for the standard one-liner that always followed an open ended comment. But it never came, so Roy continued. "Right. Nothing. Well if you're not going to talk, I still will. You're going to get evicted. It's pretty obvious you haven't paid any bills, since I know for a fact you haven't been paid for this, your _second_ two week hiatus. I'm guessing now you haven't answered your phone because it's been shut off. You don't have any lights on unless your daughter cries or you have something to do late at night because you know that'll be the next thing to be shut off. And your refrigerator has nothing in it because you haven't bought anything."

He wasn't even mad at Roy's comments. More unconcerned. "I live here. I know this. What's your point?" Havoc muttered. He was going for bored, but his tone made him sound like an angst-ridden teenager talking back to his parents.

"Alanah's my point." _Fuck_. "It's more than just your life you're fucking up now. I thought you realized that last time we had this talk. And if you've _totally_ given up this time on your marriage then that's fine, you know I'm behind you no matter what decision you make there. I'll do everything in my power to make things comfortable for you both, and everyone else at the office. But you can't give up on your daughter. Alanah depends on you and looks up to you no matter what, and you have to realize that and roll with it." There was a long pause while Havoc still said nothing and stared at his sparkling table. Roy sighed heavily as the normal intense stare in his eyes seemed to flicker and fade just a bit, disappointment overcoming them. "Ok fine. I know I've been through this before. So why don't you talk instead? Tell me what you've been doing these past two weeks. Because I can pretty much tell what you haven't been doing."

Havoc mulled the idea over in his head while he felt Roy watching him. _Jesus, is he trying to read my mind or something?_ He wouldn't put that past Roy. But he wasn't quite sure how to tell him everything that had been going on. It seemed it was too much, too many bad nights to constitute only two weeks. Where did he start: the fights, the drunken stupors, or the robberies? He supposed grand theft auto wasn't the best place to begin. He chose something more…neutral.

"Uh…drinking I guess. I had to stop though. Too expensive." Roy didn't look convinced. "And smoking, but I think that goes without saying." Still the same unchanged look. "And…uh…sleeping."

"Havoc. For once just level with me for Christ's sake. I can tell you're hiding something, and I swear I won't judge. Just let me know what you've done, and we'll get through this. I promise. I've hidden a lot of things from a lot of people. I'm asking nicely now. Just please…tell me. What have you gotten yourself into?"

And he didn't expect much, but the last thing he'd imagine was for Jean Havoc to lower his head into his hands and start sobbing.


	3. Return to SelfLoathing

The door closed and Havoc placed his forehead against it. He felt dizzy. The whole night was a blur. He didn't remember ever feeling so much, though that was probably mostly due to the fact that he never really felt many emotions anymore. Maybe he was just out of the habit of acknowledging any of them.

Except fear. That one was always there.

And well, what's another word for desperation? He tried to think of it, but his brain seemed to have given up at this point. Backing away from the door, he stumbled a bit and caught himself, leaning up against the disheveled couch with one arm. _He's right._ The past year of his life felt like it was something of a nightmare. He went from having everything that any sane man desires, to having the last few strangled remains of a perfect life.

He'd had that great job. Ok, so maybe some people looked down on the military, but it was an outstanding place to work. It provided him with security and introduced him to everyone important in his life, introduced him to camaraderie and responsibility and the real world. He had a title to his name: Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc made him sound just that much more credible and elite. He had these great friends from the military, and he depended on them because they depended on him, because that's how things work in a team. And they were one of the greatest military teams to date; working under Colonel Mustang and in cooperation with each other had lead them to achieve many things other installments admired them for.

And he'd had that beautiful wife. The one every guy imagines ending up with because doesn't that validate your life anyway? Don't you have to fall in love with the perfect girl and have a perfect life with perfect kids? That's how you tell if you've succeeded or not…right? He was beginning to feel like he'd had success then, because of that beautiful, strong, independent wife, and because of his beautiful, strong, independent daughter. But that time had slipped away, as it always seemed to do, and it was getting harder and harder not to blame it on himself.

After an inordinate amount of time still leaning on that couch he decided that with the sun almost rising, it might be time to try to sleep. So he shuffled off to his bedroom, pausing at the doorway of his daughter's room to sigh. _What the fuck am I going to do…_ he wondering, almost serving as a rhetorical question to himself. He was grateful to Roy for staying and talking, mostly just listening. He appreciated that Roy didn't judge, as he was prone to do, but only assured Havoc that he'd do everything in his power to ensure the safety and comfort of both father and daughter.

Havoc just wished, as he climbed into bed and tried to will himself to sleep, that he could promise himself that.

He didn't sleep well at all, periodically waking dripping with sweat from dreams of fists and flashing lights and screams in alleys. But he did drag himself out of bed at about noon. And he did stop at the Hughes' house, where true to Mustang's word, Gracia stood waiting eagerly to see Alanah again for the day. And he did walk through the headquarters' halls amidst the whispers and stares until he got to Mustang's office. And once there, he knocked and entered to see a genuine smile on the Colonel's face.

"Well thank you, Havoc." He said nothing, but looked down at his scuffed boots as he solemnly bowed. "You being here is enough for me, but I'd have appreciated a shower."

"Sir. My water got shut off. I apologize, Sir."

Roy immediately regretted his comment, and Havoc looked up from his boots in time to see what he thought might have been an apologetic look. From the Colonel. At work. But it quickly faded, the stoic expression returned, and he nodded.

"No, I apologize then Jean, and the formality isn't quite necessary." Havoc's rigid posture relaxed just a bit, as if a small weight was lifted off his shoulders and he let a breath escape more noticeably than he had intended it. "You can go use my office bathroom, should you choose to. Let me know if you need anything." Havoc said nothing, but nodded graciously. "I've got some people to check up on as usual, but when you're ready I've given your assignment to Sergeant Major Fury. Take your time. And try to enjoy your first day back."

So Havoc did. He took a long hot shower, which he hadn't had the luxury of doing in quite some time. And he thought about how it shouldn't be strange to be back here; he was only gone two weeks. But it was, and it was especially odd to be bathing in the Colonel's bathroom. He tried to shake the idea out of his head, tried to just get back into the feel of being at work. Leaning his head back into the stream of water, he rinsed out what was the left of his shampoo and reluctantly turned off the shower. Stepping out onto the cold tile floor and shaking the excess water out of his dirty blonde hair, Havoc looked in the mirror.

Contempt never felt so horrible when he was directing it at someone else.

But there he was, in front of himself…returning to self-loathing. He couldn't remember ever feeling this hopeless and heartless and lost. But he had to keep going, like Roy said, so he pulled on his uniform, ran his fingers through his hair, and took one last look in the mirror as he walked out the bathroom door. _It's going to get better._ He walked across the Colonel's office and took a deep breath as he paused at the heavy oak door. Brushing off his uniform he suddenly became more aware of all the wrinkles, the stench of alcohol and cigarettes, and quite seriously contemplated hiding in this very room until he could go home without being seen. But knowing how disappointed Roy would be, how he'd have to see the disquiet in the Colonel's eyes again that no one could ever be comfortable seeing…he pushed the heavy door open and turned right down the hall.

…only to stop in his tracks within five steps.

There he stood face to face with those eyes. That hair. That smile and that unexpected sweet smell. And his heart jumped into his throat or dropped into his stomach he couldn't quite tell because all he could think was _Mustang said she wouldn't be here._ And she looked just as surprised as he did, her lips slightly parted as if she was about to say something, scream maybe, but couldn't quite manage the words. After an insufferably long silence, her face returned to its normal dispassionate state…Havoc was sure his hadn't, though he was trying his damnedest to do so. She straightened up, clicking her heels together as she was known to do.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc." Her head dipped ever so slightly to him.

He thought his sense of speech would fail him as he mouthed the words, but to his own surprise he heard a voice that must have been his, distant as it seemed.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye."

And after an awkward moment of not knowing whether he should say more or had said too much, she brushed past him as if he was just another officer in the halls.


	4. A Grey Blue Morning

When they had finally announced that they were together, Hughes claimed he'd known it all along. He said it was obvious, that months – no – _YEARS_ ago he told Mustang that his First and Second Lieutenants were perfect for each other. And while everyone was happy for them and there were well wishes and congratulations from the whole military it seemed, it was Roy who knew it wasn't a good idea. But he watched. He sat back while their announcement finally culminated with the 'shocker' of Riza being pregnant. He watched the engagement give way to a Mr. and Mrs. Jean Havoc, watched a little Havoc run through the halls with Alicia Hughes. And quietly he hated it.

It was not because of the history between he and Riza; he'd never given that much significance to a relationship, if you could even call what they had such a thing. No, it was because he foresaw the turmoil his team would be in if – God forbid – the marriage went sour.

But God didn't forbid it. In fact, he proved the Colonel right. Just a few days short of their three year anniversary, Jean Havoc didn't show up to work. Roy had seen him slipping, coming in late a few days here and there, but nothing that other higher ups didn't deal with from their subordinates. Maybe he should have caught on, but the red light had nothing to do with Jean.

For the first time in their years of working together, Riza Hawkeye was late to work.

And when she did show up two hours _after_ Roy, she entered with her head up and firmly said, "Sorry I'm late Sir. I'll stay after hours this whole week and will accept my punishment whenever you deem it necessary for me to do so."

Now Roy had always struggled with matters of the heart. A census among his ex-lovers of the Colonel outside of the bedroom would field results containing the words "unfeeling," "heartless," and more often than not, "cold." But on this day he felt an emptiness that none of those words could do justice. He noticed the tips of Riza's flushed cheeks, and as she tried to avoid his stare he noticed her swollen eyes. He noticed her hair wasn't perfectly arranged, and he though he noticed a sniffle escape her as she still stood at attention. Roy noticed, and that was one thing, but this time he felt he had to do something about it, which was quite another thing in itself. It hurt him to see his loyal friend, such a strong woman clearly so upset…and he was at a loss for how to react. For once, the Colonel was rendered speechless.

"Sir, may I be excused to return to work?" She spoke to him but her eyes looked right past, out the window at the grey blue morning sky that teased of rain.

"No, you may not Lieutenant. Take a seat so we can talk about this tardiness." Being the consummate professional and ever obedient, she sat down on the couch nearest the Colonel's desk, still straight at attention.

"Riza." He didn't call her that outside of the bedroom, hadn't called her by her first name in years and her eyes almost seemed like they flickered at the sounds of the word. "If he hurt you, I'll kill him. Just give me the word." And he stood when he said that, crossing around to the front of his desk.

"No Sir, that will be unnecessary." Her gaze stayed fixed, now out a side window where trees were rustling in a strong breeze and birds were making circles in the sky. Mustang knew enough to not expect her to refrain from the formalities. If anything, she was doing it more now to avoid emotion as she was one to do. So he just sighed, which garnered a wince from Riza. Roy sighing meant Roy showing frustration, and no matter who or what he was frustrated with, a fit of yelling usually followed a sigh.

But the yelling never came. Instead, Roy walked in front of Riza's place on his couch and squatted down. She stared at him, not quite trusting his movements. He reached up and took her hands which had been placed firmly upon her lap. Cupping them together into one of his large, calloused hands, Roy brought them to his mouth and placed a quick, gentle kiss on her knuckles. He replaced her hands to their proper place, but did not move as he looked strongly into her eyes and said, "You're strong enough. But even the strongest have their moments of fatigue."

Her gaze didn't change, but her face tightened. As the rain came down outside the window, her eyes welled up. Roy watched his friend search for the strength to do as he was silently asking and let herself open up to him. Her head dropped for a moment, the first sign of emotion she'd shown since entering the office. The silence gave way to the downpour, and the woman's head raised again, a look of determination and willingness to act upon it.

"Nietzsche," she whispered, probably just to herself but the Colonel heard it and couldn't help but let a small grin through. He knew that would do it. And while she watched the water and spoke gently, carefully, and precisely to the Colonel, Riza Havoc never cried.


	5. Lay It Down

Havoc didn't show up to work that day because he didn't know he had to. As far as he knew, it was still the weekend, though he wasn't exactly sure which day it was, much less where he was supposed to be. But what he _did_ know was that he was still drunk, it was quite possible his nose had been broken, and after a screaming match that made his head feel amazing, Riza had taken Alanah and left. But since he wasn't really thinking straight, none of that mattered. It just mattered that last night, he had gotten away. And now he just needed to sleep and everything would be better.

And sleep he did, through numerous phone calls and the sun setting to give way to the moon. He woke up feeling worse than when he fell asleep. It took more effort than it should have, but he dragged himself to the bathroom. It was a good thing he'd done this with his eyes closed before, or it might have been awkward. He blindly flipped on the light and stood in front of the toilet. Standing there he couldn't help but feel like something wasn't right.

He tried to let his yawn out and instead yelled in pain. He tried to open his eyes, but both only half-opened. A sense of terror filled him and all he could think was, _What the fuck is going on?_ Not bothering to flush the toilet, he went to the sink and looked in the mirror.

_Oh my God…_

His nose was still bleeding from the bridge, which was now flattened and wide. He managed his left eye open enough to see the open wounds covering his face; his right eye was purple and black, hair looked dyed red from dried blood. He tried to raise his hand to touch the swollen cheek, but winced in pain. _My back. Oh God, my back._ He doubled over, turned around and saw blood filling the toilet. _I knew…something…was wrong… _And he felt like he might pass out.

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After spending nearly the entire day trying to reach him, Mustang didn't exactly expect to get a call from Havoc nearing one in the morning. And he definitely didn't expect to be asked how much he knew about kidneys. But he didn't hesitate and didn't question, only asked Havoc where he was and told him to stay there.

Roy arrived shortly, a cooler and medical kit in tow. He was greeted by a sarcastic comment. "Heh…do you where that thing to sleep, too?" Speaking was tough for Havoc, but he couldn't seem to pass up the opportunity to mock the Colonel for wearing his uniform in the middle of the night.

"No I do not; it was the last thing I took off and therefore the first thing I grabbed. I don't think now is the time for jokes," and his tone reasserted that. With that, Roy removed the aforementioned uniform jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, which was indeed untucked and wrinkled as if it had been lying on the floor. Even at 1am Jean was shocked to see Roy looking so…imperfect.

The Colonel moved quickly, setting out bandages and needles, bottles and ointments, saying nothing. Havoc was scared to speak. He'd thought he'd seen nearly every action and reaction from Mustang after all these years, but tonight there was something different.

A cold pack was thrust at his hands. "Put that on your eye," Roy ordered, and Jean obliged. It stung for a bit, but that became the least of his concerns as soon as Roy had settled his tools and moved onto the couch. And then there was just pain. Overwhelming, unrelenting pain. He cried out and tried to move away, but Roy simply overpowered him, pushing him into the cushions and saying, "This is the best I can do." So Havoc surrendered, allowed the torture as alcohol was applied to his wounds.

A needle was repeatedly driven through his skin and removed, leaving small sets of railroad tracks around his face. He got used to the sensation though, and realized Roy was quite proficient at stitching. "How do you kno-"

"War. You learn a lot more than just how to kill someone." And he tore off the last thread in his teeth, tied it, and set his tools down. There was a sadness in his voice that Jean couldn't help but pick up on. "Lay on your stomach," Roy demanded as he rose from the couch; the sadness was gone. As before, Jean immediately obeyed, as painful as it was to move about.

Roy began his makeshift examination, already presuming kidney damage, but making sure nevertheless. And as he went along he realized waiting longer to say something would change nothing; he had to stay unbiased, hear both sides of the story, and this was as good a time as any. At least Jean couldn't run from his questions now.

"So," he started, trying to sound as nonchalant and polite as he could muster at the time, "would you like to tell me what this is all about?" He was removing Havoc's shirt, needing to see his skin to correctly identify the problem. And there it was. A few huge welts covered his lower back, swollen and purplish in color. Roy didn't have to touch them to know they were causing Havoc some serious discomfort.

Havoc was practically gasping for air, becoming short of breathe with all the movement and also reluctant to talk about why he was laying here anyway. But he already felt indebted to Mustang. With the time now closing in on 2am, there was no reason the Colonel should still be here. So he gave in and began to talk, and Mustang listened attentively as Havoc recounted what had led up to that night. It was a case of simply behaving like an immature teen, lacking any sense of accountability for his actions. He knew that before anyone had to tell him.

"See Roy…I guess I've grown fond of alcohol, and maybe too fond of my favorite bar. Well that's all well and fine, it can happen to anyone, right? So maybe I've come home excessively late a few nights, no big deal. But Riza has been just relentless in her criticism of my habits, which of course has led me to defy her," he openly admitted. "A lot of days I'd come home from work with her, change, and leave for the bar without as much as a word. I'd come back well past midnight, when I'd stumble into the bedroom and climb into bed, usually still fully clothed." He spoke so openly, so remorseless about these episodes that Mustang had to wonder where Jean was going with this; when was he supposed to feel sorry for an alcoholic?

"Well Riza yelled a lot, but she'd always ask me if I needed anything, always asked me to not do this tomorrow night. And I'd always say this was the last time, because I always wanted it to be. And we'd lay there in bed and though I don't remember every night, I remember more than a few times that I'd pass out shortly after I'd hear her take a deep breath and whisper, 'Kiss me in th-" And he cut off abruptly. Why did it hurt him to think of that? It was nothing special, just a nightly routine between them; one of those dumb things that couples do.

One night, before they'd even been engaged, they laid in bed together. After all the lights were off, their 'I love you's had been said, and it was completely silent, Jean quietly said, "Kiss me goodnight." It caught Riza off-guard, she had told him that once. But she turned and looked into his eyes that were reflecting the blue moonlight through the window and said, "Only if you kiss me in the morning." He liked that, because he had the horrible habit of waking up two minutes before their alarm went off in the morning. So for those two minutes he'd watch Riza sleep, and because she looked so beautiful when she thought no one was watching for a show of weakness, he'd lay a quick kiss on her forehead before rolling out of bed and beating her to the shower. It wasn't until that night that she first told him to kiss her in the morning that he even knew she was awake most of those mornings. So every night the routine went that way…"Kiss me goodnight." "Kiss me in the morning," only as he turned into a different person and stopped remember nights altogether, he stopped remembering to say his line. Riza never forgot hers.

It occurred to him he was getting a bit more detailed than perhaps Mustang needed. He'd been quiet for quite some time, reminiscing silently. The Colonel was waiting. "Well she'd whisper something. And then we'd get up the next morning and do it all again." Mustang didn't look satisfied.

"Logic tells me there's more to this." Isn't that what logic always tells Roy Mustang? There's always some hidden motive behind people's actions, always an explanation for why an event occurred. And he found it hard to believe that Riza would get so upset over a few nights with a drunken husband. Well…that and she had already told him the story. But Jean didn't know that. So he continued.

"Yea…I'm getting to that. Over the past few weeks things have gotten worse…I'm surprised Riza didn't go to you _then_ to get me in trouble." Roy didn't take offense to the comment, but couldn't help but feel less like a friend and more like a boss as he let it soak in. "I guess she just realized I'd gotten myself into enough trouble on my own.

"She noticed I'd been losing money, and it wasn't just because of drinking. I started gambling a bit, nothing too harmful…but when I'm drunk I'm not the best at cards, I'm sure you can imagine that. I guess I can make this story shorter and less painful and just say I owe the wrong people a relatively large sum of money. And that's what it came down to last night. I was at the bar like usual, and there was Butch. Fitting name, right? I can't believe I got beat up by a guy named _Butch…_"

"So that's who did this to you?" Suddenly Roy's mood changed from apathetic to alarmingly concerned, the methodical gears in his mind already turning. "I'll find out more about him. Tell me everything you can remember."

"Roy, man…calm down. This is my fault anyway, right? He just roughed me up with a few of his friends…"

"And you were outnumbered too? Jean I'll take care of this, just tell me what you-"

"Quit it Roy." He'd never really talked back to the Colonel, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel strange. He waited for the reprimand that never came. Oddly enough, Roy did quit it and just went back to silently listening, his expressionless face returning with a nod to Jean to continue. "I don't exactly remember how it happened, only that I got dragged out into the alley. And after the first thump to the back of my head it was just a blur. I know I was on the ground, and I know they were using something to hit me, but it could have been a slab of meat for all I know; the hits felt the same regardless of where they were.

"I didn't try to run, how could I? So just laid there and took it, which is probably the second most humiliating thing that's ever happened to me. The first has to be coming home and having Riza see me like this, trying to explain it to her…"

"But you didn't tell her the whole story, Jean." Now the strange thing about Roy saying that, was that Jean realized he wasn't asking if he told her the whole story, wasn't even assuming it. Jean looked down, suddenly feeling less embarrassed and more irate at the fact that Riza had already run to Mustang about this, like she always did. He shouldn't have been surprised, he figured, but he couldn't hide his frustration as he spoke.

"She told you." His teeth were grinding into each other, jaw clenched through the pain.

"Of course she told me. But I got a completely different version of the story from her, so I do appreciate your honesty to me but why wouldn't you give it to her?" Mustang didn't honestly believe that the truth would have helped Havoc's cause, but he knew that lying only made it worse. To an angry woman, there's really no difference between starting a bar fight and owing thugs money. Either way you're in the wrong, and it's not smart to argue at that point. But Havoc was never a deceitful person, there had to be a reason that he didn't tell Riza the truth, and Roy was determined to figure that reason out.

"If you already knew all this why'd you bother to make me go through it all?" He spoke quickly, his voice getting louder with each word, and he wanted so badly to stand up and walk away from the Colonel just then…but his pain kept him down.

"I'll leave now if you want me to, but if you'll recall, you're the one that called me to come over." Havoc simply buried his face in the cushion of the couch. Roy took that to mean that he didn't have to leave just yet. So he pressed on. "Now tell me why you lied to her about what happened."

Havoc didn't want to. That's basically it. And that's why it took him so long to finally let the words stumble out of his mouth, which is the best way to describe how he sounded as he said, "Because I was embarrassed I guess." There was a pause as he tried to shift his position so he could look at Roy. "Ya know…even when you're drunk as hell it's hard to admit that your muscles weren't enough to keep you safe." His eyes were glazed over when he said that. His body alone was always enough to get him through everything; he never had to do much thinking and he liked it that way. And as he was curling up into the fetal position last night in a dark, dirty alley, _that_ was what he thought of: that for once his body had failed him. "Anyway I don't remember much after that. I know Riza was yelling at me when I got home, and I remember her leaving with Alanah. I just went to sleep."

"So you don't remember agreeing on getting a divorce."

Havoc's face turned pastier than it was already, which was quite a feat given all the color had been drained when he sat himself up before Mustang spoke. "No," Jean trying to say, but it came out more like a squeak. He coughed. "No I can't say I remember that part."


	6. Steadfast Fidelity

Riza had stayed up late that night with Alanah, who insisted on waiting for Daddy. Much to her own chagrin, the little girl fell asleep nearing midnight, and her mother tucked her in to bed alone. Riza tucked Alanah's strawberry blond hair behind her ear before placing a kiss gently on her forehead and leaving the room. For the next two hours, Riza laid in her own bed alone as she tried her damnedest to just clear her mind and sleep. But a clear mind was a luxury these days it seemed, as even when she was preoccupied with work she was worrying about Jean, worrying about Alanah…worrying about herself. Everything was just…wrong. And she wasn't sure just when that changed, because for a long time it had all been so unbearably right.

The time had reached about 3am when Riza was startled by the noise of someone entering the door, but the familiar shuffle towards the bedroom indicated who the trespasser was. She pretended to sleep that night…she didn't feel like having another argument with him; it got them nowhere and it wasn't worth the aggravation. So she lay there silently with her back to the door, and feigned slumber as he stumbled in the bedroom door. His steps seemed odd tonight, a limp maybe? Whatever it was, it stopped as she heard a groan and two bumps signifying his boots hitting the ground. She felt the bed sag a bit as he propped himself up with one arm, preparing himself to lie down without changing his clothes.

And then she heard the loud thump as Jean promptly missed the bed and ended up on the floor.

"Dammit Jean…" The words escaped her mouth even though she intended to just think them, and they honestly sounded like a whimper. A nearly silent, pitiful whimper that might have come from a child.

"Fuckrizaidontknowthisisnot….fuck." He didn't make sense. It might have been because his words were nearly indistinguishable, slurred together and fumbling over and around his tongue, but she was certain it was because he hadn't actually formed a coherent sentence.

"Jean. Get off the floor." She wanted that to be a command, but to anyone that knew her they'd have realized it was as close to a plea as anything that had ever escaped her lips.

"Idunwanna…"

"Jean. Get. Up. Now." The plea was gone. It was a demand that sounded almost identical to the tone she used at the office when keeping the Colonel in line. But Jean didn't move. She hadn't turned to look at him yet, but didn't hear a rustle or any sign of motion. So she moved. For some reason that night was enough. This night of childishness and irresponsibility was too much for her to have to deal with and she had to do something about it. _Fuck this._ She raised herself out of bed in a rush of energy, stormed out the bedroom door and never turned around to look at the crumpled heap at the side of the bed that was her husband.

----------------

She didn't want to think about that night, promised herself that once the divorce process started that she'd just keep moving forward. Yet there she was only just short of three months later in her military dorm with just her dog to keep her company, thinking back on the screaming match that was that night; the awful things they said to each other, the terrible condition Jean was in, but that shouldn't – _couldn't_ be a copout for him. She made sure it ended that night. She wanted to be done with that part of her life, and she wanted to be done with him. To her own dismay, seeing Jean in the hall before she left the office made her more uneasy than she imagined it would this time around. It was just Jean. _Yea…the drunken lying bastard that fucked up my life._

Last time they'd run into each other at the office after that night was after Jean's first absence, which she wasn't informed of until the end of his _second_ absence. It was almost six weeks after that night when practically the same thing happened; Jean was reeling around the corner coming out of the Colonel's office, Mustang's voice trailed after him still yelling obscenities and threats about not bailing him out next time. She didn't really understand the details, but put together what she knew about Jean to realize that Mustang had obviously helped him out of whatever unnecessary mess he'd recently gotten himself into. He nearly knocked her over as she was walking with a purpose, head staring down at the file in her hand. And there they stood for a bit, just staring at each other like it was totally unfathomable that even with all the precautions Mustang took they would still end up seeing each other.

"Havoc, honestly, why are you still – oh." The Colonel had come out into the hall to see why Jean was still standing in the doorway with a dumbfounded look on his face. _Fuck. Fix it_, was all he could think. "Sorry about this, I had to ask Riza to stay late because of – oh look! That very file that's in her hands! Great, Riza why don't you step in my office, Jean I'll see _you_ later." And as the Colonel and First Lt. disappeared behind the door Mustang yelled out, "And dammit, you'd better get started on your work Havoc!"

That day wasn't as hard as today was. That day, she hadn't asked any questions, didn't care to know. Roy had spoken to her calmly, explained he needed them both, and she knew that and accepted it. Havoc was just as much a part of their team as she was, and she promised him she'd try to make it easier. So for the next month they worked relatively alongside each other…when they were at the office at the same time. They just didn't address each other. She could only assume that Jean had gone through all this trouble to stay in this discomfited environment for the same reason she did: Roy.

The Colonel was close to his goals; his promotion to Brigadier General was at hand, down to just paperwork and formalities now. After that, it wouldn't be long before he'd be General; Hakuro was on the outs with higher ups and was likely to be 'relieved of his duties' as they say, and since the Major and Lt. Generals had been killed in the disturbance in East City last month, Roy would be next in command. So long as he did his job the same as he always did, he'd be promoted four ranks in about four months. He was more focused now, if that was even possible. The Elrics had done their work, Edward's stone was a success. Al had been hidden, as was the stone, and now three years later Al was going to return and everyone would live happily ever after as planned. And after they were settled, after Roy had gotten all his promotions, then the ultimate goal would be right in their grasps.

Sure, they'd all enjoy hefty promotions (Lt. General Hawkeye _did_ sound nice), but it wasn't about them. Hell, it wasn't even really about Roy. It was about the country finally getting a deserving Fuhrer. One that could lead them in peace and war, give them a reason to hold their head up high when speaking of their country. And that day was soon approaching.

When the seven of them agreed to follow Mustang, they swore they'd stick with him to the end, whatever that end may be. Riza had never needed convincing. Since Hughes and Mustang decided that this image of Roy becoming Fuhrer was to be made a reality, they had kept her in mind to stay by Roy's side. She never doubted them, only swore she wouldn't let them down. Armstrong came next, a Major under Hughes' command. A no-brainer really, he filled the position of intimidation factor, but also leant a sense of extra drive to a group that was already driven…which was quite a feat. He pushed them even when they knew what they had to do, never let them lose sight of the ultimate goal. Hughes trusted him immensely, and so Roy followed suit.

And then Havoc came. Though she knew of him and had only good things to say about the man, she seriously questioned his addition. He lost focus sometimes, becoming too diverted by things like women, cards, and cigarettes. He appeared to have a serious problem with authority, never second guessing an opportunity to break the rules and prove a superior wrong. But those very characteristics she felt were drawbacks were the precise reasons Mustang chose Havoc. "If I give him freedom, he'll follow me," the Colonel had said. "If I am his equal, not superior, the strength and determination I know he has will surface. He's been talked down to his entire service here just because he has the balls to take initiative and the will to succeed at all costs. He is a man of action and a man of duty. This is the type of man we need." And he was, Riza learned. He fulfilled all expectations Mustang made sure he never set upon him.

She remembered the surprise she felt when Fury was asked to join the team. _Too young,_ she'd thought. _Too naïve._ And Breda. _Too undisciplined._ Falman. _Too uptight._ But it was no shock to Hughes, who assured her that Roy was a better judge of character than perhaps any man, ever. "Just let him pick, you'll see it in the end," Hughes predicted. And she did. She saw the innate intelligence of Fury, the cunning of Breda, the unwavering loyalty of Falman. True to Hughes' word, and Mustang's unsaid approval, those three turned out to perfectly complete their established team.

And it was that team that she'd lived for for the past Lord knows how many years. Come what may, she would sooner die than let their dream go unexecuted. With all the drama in her life lately though, she couldn't help but feel death in that sense might come for her sooner.

She flopped down onto her bed, kicking off her boots as she did so. With a heavy sigh, she thought of Roy. If it weren't for him, she'd have requested a transfer about the same time she filed for divorce. She couldn't help but realize it was more than a bit strange that she'd give up on her marriage, but not a military mission.


	7. Void Of Permission

For the precise amount of three weeks preceding Jean's first absence, both he and Riza followed the schedule Mustang set for them: Riza came in early and worked until one, Jean came in at one and stayed late. The few times their paths cross consisted of a nod and if one of them was feeling ambitious, uncharacteristically caring, or possibly irritated beyond words, then a stiff "Afternoon" might be spat out just to spite the other party.

Outside of the office, it was decided that every two weeks they would see each other in order to exchange Alanah and her belongings. Whenever she needed to be watched, Gracia Hughes gladly handled it, though sometimes she stayed with Riza's mom and other times with, Josey, a close friend of Jean's mother. Riza had even left her with Winry a few times, just for something different. And while all of the drama unfolded, Alanah handled it like a perfect adult.

Well, at least that made _one_ person.

Because obviously Jean wasn't acting his age. He'd taken two weeks off without getting it approved. AWOL, as they say. Mustang took some heat for that one, but being ever the smooth talker, he managed to assure his superiors that there was good reason and Havoc would be appropriately reprimanded. And he definitely was…once the Colonel tracked him down anyway.

During this self-approved vacation, Jean had left Alanah with Gracia and left town, the Colonel had found out. Because he knew the little girl was safe, Roy didn't bother to tell Riza that Jean was missing. Hughes was tracking him down and knew it would only cause more trouble to alarm Riza. So everyone in the know agreed to just, well, _lie._ Of course as innocently and nicely as possible, but lie nonetheless.

He'd been found obviously. The Colonel himself went three towns over to "pick him up", which meant probably kick his ass there, drag him onto a train, and kick his ass when they got home. But by the time he got there, Jean was gone. He'd returned home, the guilt of deserting his job got to him. Mustang wanted desperately to appreciate that but couldn't, as he had just endured two extremely long train rides and dealt with not what he would call hospitable civilians in a town he never really had any desire to visit anyway. But when he returned to find Havoc locked inside his office and Hughes and Armstrong guarding the door, he knew it wasn't so bad. _He's safe, Alanah's ok, Riza will never know…this is fine._ He proceeded into the office, kicked the door closed behind him a la Edward Elric, and began his screaming.

It was only a month after returning to work that Jean disappeared for ANOTHER two weeks.

"Irresponsible," Mustang had called it to his co-workers. "Reckless, uncaring, and immature."

He kept it to himself that he really wanted to give up anything, his money, his power, his rank – _ok…maybe not his rank_ – but most anything to save Jean from the trouble he knew he was in. That was not something that Colonel Mustang was to think. He was not supposed to feel and he was most certainly not supposed to be willing to sacrifice anything for someone that was skipping out on him. But _Roy_ could think it. And to his own surprise, Roy could feel that. And Roy…had no idea what to do.

That day Mustang put Hughes in charge of once again finding Havoc after he yelled to – not at – Fury and Falman and Breda and anyone else he could corner in a room about anything he damn well pleased to yell about. Mustang knew the last thing Hughes really needed was one more thing on his plate, but who else could he turn to in order to get the job done? "Right Roy, I'll get on it," was all the Lt. Colonel had said when Roy officially told him that Havoc went AWOL again.

AWOL.

Absent Without Leave.

Mustang never did like how that sounded. Military personnel were deemed AWOL after a week without contact or known whereabouts. He didn't want to have to do this again. Sitting at his big mahogany desk and looking down at the file where scribbled lazily in his own writing was '_AWOL – 30.MAR.21_,' he sighed as he dragged his pen over the red line already running through the note. "God dammit Havoc…" It was all he could do not to yell out for no reason and to no one in particular, so he stuck with that simple grumble. A reason for this. He had to find it. It was Friday, so that meant they had…two? Yes, two days before he'd be forced to write that again.

AWOL.

He didn't want that again. He'd watched the self-destruction of Jean Havoc, knowing it was happening and being totally unable to do anything to really help.

Last night his phone rang nearing 3am. There was no one on the other end.

Hughes would find him. Hughes would pull through, he always did. They had a whole weekend. Monday he'd be back. He had to be. He wasn't going to let his friend get kicked out of the military at a time when he so desperately needed it. Jean needed something, stability perhaps…but definitely support. And maybe a therapist and a swift kick in the ass…but that could be figured out later. They'd find him. Hughes would find him. Roy would fix this. Jean would be fine.

--------------

_Noise. What is that noise. Phone? Am I sleeping? Is that the phone ringing? What time is it? Phone. Fuck, where is he. Noise. Move. Pick up the phone._

He shifted over towards the nightstand, gently pushed the blond in his bed away from him. His hand blindly landed on the receiver, dragged it to his ear, spat out the first word he could think. "Jean?"

"Roy?"

"Jean?"

"No, Roy."

"Maes?"

"Yea, Roy. Man I'm sorry…we can't find any trace of Jean anywhere; it's like he's just disappeared completely. I don't know what to tell you." _Tell me that it's going to be ok._ "I guess we're just gonna have to wait until he comes back again." _And what if he doesn't? _ "I'm really sorry. Just…let me know if there's anything I can do. I'm heading home."

"Sure. Thanks Maes."

"I woke you, right?"

"Yea. But it's no big deal."

"I know. I'm happy you were sleeping though. I'll see you tomorrow man."

The phone was placed back onto the cradle rather noisily as he tried to get back to his position in bed to have another go at sleeping. _What's the point? _"Fuck." There was an exasperated breath that escaped him before he could realize it, and maybe he'd said that a bit too loud when he meant to only think it.

"Hmm?" The blond stirred. Roy glanced back at where the faint mumble had come from.

"Sorry. Go back to sleep." He rolled his face away from his visitor and stared out the second story window at a moon that was mostly covered by dark clouds slowly moving across an otherwise clear sky. There weren't really any good thoughts he could force into his head just then, even as a thinner arm with a slender, softer hand got wrapped around his waist from behind.

He didn't want to be touched, and he didn't want to deal with "entertaining" in bed just then, so he got out of bed (in spite of the moans of protest from his visitor) and went to the kitchen, where he stayed until the sun rose and it was time to go the office.

--------------

Edward Elric had entered Mustang's office Monday morning, kicked the door closed behind him, and ever so gracefully flopped down on the couch. Roy had sat motionless with his hand still on the receiver of the phone on his desk, stared at the file in front of him and said nothing. After an agonizing silence that neither stubborn man was choosing to comment on, Edward spoke in a tone that Roy couldn't quite place as mocking, genuine, or concerned. "Roy, you could at least _try_ to not look guilty."

"Guilty of what, Fullmetal? I'm afraid I don't know what you're getting at." His posture changed; his hand lifted off the receiver, back straightened, face regained it's hard, stoic expression.

"Oh, I don't know. Lying to the Fuhrer maybe?" Roy furrowed his brow, stared hard into the papers his hand lay on top of.

"Shut up Fullmetal."

"Because I'm pretty sure that's a serious-"

"Shut UP Edward!"

When he looked up from the file a fierce golden gaze met his with equal fervor. "I just meant that for your own sake, you might want to stop acting suspicious and start figuring out what you're going to do when Havoc doesn't come back." The blond stood from the couch, taller than Roy ever remembered, and as he turned back to the door he glanced toward the Colonel's desk. "And maybe you might want to figure out how you're going to explain to Riza that her daughter's missing too, and her best friend has been covering it up this whole time."

The door slammed closed behind him. Roy's head collapsed into his hands and it seemed like this might be the one thing to put him over the edge. _I've betrayed my best friend, and now I just lied to the fucking Fuhrer._ And for what? Sure, it bought him a little more time, saying Havoc had reported for duty this morning with a viable excuse and had immediately been sent out on a mission with Hughes for Intelligence…but what would happen next time Mustang was called on this? He was being watched so closely because of all this talk of promotions, why was he putting himself in such a position that he could lose everything?

Maybe because Havoc already had.

Alright. One more week, that's what Roy gave Havoc. On Sunday, if he was still unable to be located, Roy would just report him AWOL. _There's that Goddamn term again._ And he'd fess up to the Fuhrer and tell him lied. There was nothing else he could do. Either they'd find him by then, or they'd move on without him.


	8. Ad Hoc Measures

Maybe it was the God that none of them believed in that led Jean back home again that Tuesday. And maybe it was luck or intuition or something no one could explain that made Mustang stop by Havoc's house on Thursday and pound on the door like a madman even though he didn't expect it to open.

And after the yelling and the punches and the talking until the sun rose, Mustang left content. Which was strange in itself, because nothing was solved. If anything, Mustang should have left more concerned and probably terrified for his friend. But he didn't, because after Havoc had explained the circumstances of everything that happened – when and why he left, where he went, and when and why he returned – Mustang just hugged him in spite of himself, pushed Havoc's stupid blond head down into his shoulder and promised him that everything was going to be fine.

Whatever it was that brought him back home, Jean didn't quite know what would make him stay there. And while Riza was sulking in her room after running in to him out in the hall, later that day Jean was moping in Mustang's office – afraid to leave for fear of seeing her even though he'd been told she left. Not that he was really inclined to do the job Fury had told him was waiting with his name on it anyway. Alphabetizing the records of every enlistee who had any history of going AWOL didn't seem like it should be _his_ problem…but he was pretty certain he got the point the Colonel was trying to make.

Yet there he sat, behind the couch in Mustang's office, and flipped an unlit cigarette back and forth through each of his fingers. He said nothing even when one, two, three different sets of footsteps entered. Now Havoc may not be the most cunning or intellectual person, and he knew that. But if there was one thing he was, it was observant. So he listened to the steps as the cigarette still traveled back and forth.

The first had a slight limp, the next a barely detectable heaviness yet a quicker gate, and the last was perfectly steady, almost giving off its owner's self-asserted righteousness. They all stopped together and he could only picture the scene behind him.

Havoc could tell from the order he heard the steps that Hughes had led the way into the office (_he always tried his best to hide that limp_) and now probably stood leaning back on his heels, his hands on his hips.

Surely Fullmetal had followed him (_the urgency in his walk was distinctive_) and stood now with his weight on the automail leg that gave him away, arms folded, his best "I'm-gonna-kick-your-ass" look firmly etched upon his face.

And then finally there had to be Mustang (_who else could be that perfect?_). And he was sure that the Colonel stood then with his hands in his pockets, legs comfortably shoulder-width apart. And no doubt he had a smug grin on his face, as he always did with Havoc.

They stood in silence, and Havoc continued to flip that cigarette. Back and forth. Back and forth. "Well gentlemen, to what do I owe this visit?" The tone in his voice was beyond sarcastic, it was verging on malicious. He'd speak, he decided, but he refused to look at them. The only looks that were going to meet him if he turned around would be disappointed ones, and he didn't want to bother with that again. So he kept his back against the backside of the couch. Back and forth.

He heard a bit of a scuffle after his comment and laughed to himself. So apparently he's pissed off Fullmetal. _That kid shouldn't let people get to him so much._ What was sure to be a cynical remark began to escape the youngest man's mouth, but it was stifled immediately by what he could only assume to be a whisper from Mustang. No one else could quiet either Elric so easily.

"Edward, stay," was all he could make out over the footsteps heading to the door.

"No, fuck this Roy," Ed's already loud voice was growing louder. "He doesn't-"

"Edward, please stay." The steps stopped. There was a loud overdramatic sigh (as was Edward's style) and the steps led back to where the other men still stood.

Havoc listened to the silence for a bit, still keeping that cigarette going back and forth. _Well, might as well get this over with._ The cigarette got its last flip through each finger of his right hand and then was placed behind his left ear as he stood up from the ground and turned around to face the men.

It would have been a severe understatement if Havoc said he was surprised. The faces that met his eyes were the faces of those he expected, but the expressions were all wrong. Edward stared at the ground and his face was contorted in a strange way; it seemed stuck somewhere between screaming in anger and sobbing in complete agony. His arms were folded across his chest that still faced the door and he looked, for lack of a better word, depleted. _Why does he look so…sad?_ _And good Lord…why does Maes look so…livid?_ That was unlike Hughes, everyone knew that. Strong emotions didn't tend to be shown by the Lt. Colonel; he was the neutral one. Well except when it came to his adoration of his family and sympathy towards most, but he never EVER showed any negative emotion outside of battle. Yet there he stood, with a look of absolute loathing on his face that Havoc could have never imagined.

And then he saw the emptiness in Mustang's eyes that overwhelmed the hatred from Maes and the confusion from Edward. The emptiness wasn't from disappointment, nor was it from disdain. He couldn't quite place it, but it just might have been what someone's eyes look like when they stare at pure hopelessness.

"Jean."

"Roy." _Stay short, keep your attitude, that'll work. Don't break in front of these two._

"Jean. You're making a mockery of me and my control over this unit." _Wait…what? All of this is going on and all this bastard can think of is _his_ image?_ Edward looked just as stunned as Havoc was, but the Havoc knew enough not to show it. _Thank you Edward, for wearing your heart on your sleeve._ The young man's mouth opened, said nothing, and closed a moment later. Roy's gaze stayed on Havoc, but it was obvious he noticed Fullmetal's silent protest out of the corner of his eye. "What I mean is, I've done a lot to get you back here-"

"We all have." It was the first time the Lt. Colonel had spoken. Both Ed and Jean's head snapped his direction. The hateful expression remained, and possibly intensified upon catching Havoc's eyes.

"Thank you, Maes," Roy continued. "Yes Jean, we _all_ have. And we'd appreciate it greatly if you could take this seriously and maybe tomorrow not hide in here all afternoon." _Tomorrow._ "And that does not mean you should find a broom closet instead. It means come in and work like you always have. I don't understand the problem."

_Oh, how to put this nicely._

"You _told_ me she wouldn't be here." It didn't come out nicely, but he supposed it could have been worse. It was a slight mumble through gritted teeth, sure, and maybe there was some contempt in there, but hey, he couldn't expect to hide _all_ his feelings at a time like this. He had a lot more choice words for Mustang, that was the best he could do while still remaining civil.

"No fucking way Havoc!" _Oh here he goes._ A Fullmetal outburst. Complete with arm flailing. "_That's_ what this is about! Get over it man! So you saw her, big fucking de-"

"Be quiet Edward." Roy spoke calmly and cut him off mid-rant. Only he held that power. Fullmetal regained his composure. After yet another awkward silence Havoc managed some words.

"You'll understand the big deal, _Boss_, when you understand love." He couldn't hide the derision in his voice and there was a tense glance exchanged between the three men opposing him. Edward simply, and quite maturely Havoc realized, refolded his arms and said nothing as he lowered his head, which appeared to have more than a slight tinge of redness in the cheeks.

"Lieutenant you're out of line." _Woah…how does Hughes have the gall to talk down to me like this?_ He pulled the cigarette down from behind his ear and it began its trip through his right hand again as his left hand tightened hard into a fist on the couch. _Just look down Jean, don't snap. Stupid bastards. I need a drink. And a lighter._

"Maes." Roy silenced the Lt. Colonel, who simply nodded. Havoc couldn't help but realize that it was still strange that as close as those two men were, Hughes would still listen to every damn word Mustang said. _Doesn't everyone?_ "Gentlemen I'd appreciate it if we could all just focus on what we came here for."

"And what _is_ that exactly, Colonel?" He didn't mean for that to come out quite so defiantly, but what the hell. Might as well go with it. He'd clearly done enough wrong already to warrant a visit from two of Roy's three favorite people, he only hoped that that bitch wouldn't be coming too.

"Well, _Lieutenant_, as you can probably tell I've informed both Hughes and Fullmetal about your situation."

"Oh, my _situation_?"

"Yes. Is there a better term for it?"

"Yea, it's my life Roy, it's not just another military issue."

"Well when you skipped out of town _again_, it became a military issue _again._"

"I thought I told you this wasn't your concern and I had it taken care of. Didn't we figure that out last night?"

"Just like we had it figured out last time this happened Jean?" Roy's voice was rising uncharacteristically now.

"Oh so hold it against me because some bastards threatened my fucking life!"

"Well I don't suppose I can hold it against anyone else now, can I!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Hello, Fullmetal, reigning King of Insubordination. The young man panted a bit as he drew his arms up to his head. "Enough with the bickering! This isn't easy for any of us…we all realize that I think! Jean, we know everything that happened, and I'm real sorry your life is fucked up right now, but we're trying to help you. Roy, show a little compassion. You don't have to act like a hardass just because we're here; clearly you were much nicer to Jean last night about all this or I know damn well he wouldn't be here today!" The blonde looked ready to explode; his face was beet red and both hands were pulling at his hair. A younger Ed might have done something more destructive to 'control' the situation, but as he was still learning to control his emotions, Havoc gave him some credit for handling this one.

"Guys." In all of this Maes had stayed silent and unaffected. His arms were still folded, and his face still remained unchanged. Remarkable, really. The combination of so many choleric personalities together could make anyone totally mad, yet he retained his composure, as per usual. "If I'm going to have to be the one to talk, then fine, but for God's sake listen to me." The room fell silent as he spoke in a low, totally calm voice. "Roy told Edward and me everything, and we've decided that the three of us are going to do everything in our power to get you properly on your feet again."

"I don't nee-"

"Seriously Jean. You can stop trying to act like you can handle everything on your own. We've all had to realize that at some point in our lives, and your point is now…so please don't make this any harder."

There was honest compassion in his voice now, and Jean couldn't help but notice that his own stomach appeared to have dropped to about knee level. His eyes scanned for something to stare at that wasn't the strong solemn glare that Hughes was meeting him with. They looked for help from Edward, but the blond stared at the floor, kicked his left toe into the ground. They looked for reassurance from Roy, but the Colonel's eyes only showed that he was in complete agreement with Maes. But Roy was observant too and he saw the desperation in Jean's eyes, so he took a chance and jumped on the pause in Maes' speech.

"Jean, we know the main problem here is getting Butch and those thugs off your back."

"I took care of that."

"Stealing a car and robbing a liquor store as payment will hold them off for so long." Edward spoke, but he did so quietly, almost unsure of himself, which caught Jean off guard. "They're gonna come back, you have to figure that much."

"They definitely will." Roy moved now to the opposite side of the couch, took Jean's arm and led him to sit down on the soft leather. "And we figured that with the amount you owe them, if the four of us pool our money together then we can even this out." A childish, dumbfounded look crossed Jean's face.

"But…you guys would…" He couldn't even think the rest of the sentence. _They wouldn't. They don't owe me this…_

"Yea. We would, and we're going to." Fullmetal. _The kid finally got his life together and now he has to look after me._

"We're all going to do whatever we can Jean." And Maes. _Dammit Maes you don't need to worry about me, we worry enough about you._ "You mean a lot to this team as an officer, but you mean even more to us as a friend." Sympathy was not something Havoc seemed to be used to, and being called a friend by someone other than Roy seemed odd.

"Thank…" He swallowed hard, coughed deep in his throat. "Thank you guys." Roy smiled a genuine smile.

"Thanks are unnecessary right now. Now the decision that we've come to is that we can just cut your expenses. Don't worry about food, I'm taking care of that. Use your salary to pay your bills and the overdue amount on your rent. Between the three of us, we'll put together our spare cash and figure out the safest way for you to drop money off with Butch each week, maybe twice a week." Havoc just nodded. "I'll come by early tonight with some food for you, and we can talk about the details then. Sound good?"

Havoc didn't honestly know the answer to that question. No, it didn't sound good. It sounded absolutely pathetic. And it made him want to hit himself. Hard. And change his life and change everything. And it sounded like someone didn't know the answers to any of the questions they'd been asked in life, but they just faked their way through and finally everything was catching up to them. But he couldn't say that. So he lied and just nodded again.

"Good. Then tonight, say around eight. I'll bring ramen."

"Ok." His eyes found heir way to Fullmetal's boots and Havoc found himself unable to look anywhere but right there. "Ok. That's fine."

And it _was_ fine, for just then.

Havoc knew that might change for the worse, just like things always did, but within the next few days he realized it didn't have to. Things were going to get better; they already had since that Friday in Roy's office. He ran his fingers through his still damp hair and looked in the bathroom mirror after a long shower early Wednesday morning. It was still hard to believe that his face had healed as nicely as it did. There was only a small scar near his right eye and his nose was only slightly misshapen. There had been no more complications with his kidneys…Mustang had taken care of him. Havoc sighed deeply at that thought.

Roy had promised him that it was going to be fine, and the Colonel didn't break his promises. "Consider yourself our top priority," he had said over ramen only five days earlier. "I'll take care of this."

And when Colonel Roy Mustang was in charge, things _always_ went as planned.

----------

He was standing in the kitchen eating a sandwich Mustang had dropped off the night before when he heard the gunshot. It was realized then – but maybe not for the first time – that no matter how many wars you serve in, no matter how many bullets you dodge, a gunshot ringing through silence is a sound you can never get used to. In what in hindsight seemed to him like an eternity but in reality was only two or three seconds, Jean glanced at the clock, processed the time, dropped his sandwich and ran for the door.

----------

She was standing in the break room, which she realized then was pretty nice when empty and quiet, when she heard the all too familiar ring of a single shot being fired from what she was certain was a Remington 1911. It wasn't that sound that bothered her anymore – no – it was the painful scream of the innocent that always followed. It seemed simultaneous with the yell that Riza's coffee mug fell to the ground and she was already running. On her way through the halls and down the stairs, out the front doors of HQ, all she could do was pray to a God she never believed in that she wasn't as good at placing screams to people as she was placing gunshots to gun models.


	9. Captive

Trunks of cars were not the most pleasant or comfortable places to reside, he realized in his thirty minutes inside the dark box. The ride was bumpy, his leg was still bleeding. Luckily the pain had numbed…he didn't know how, but then again he'd never been shot so cleanly before. Maybe that's what was supposed to happen. Really he just wished he could reach down and grab his left outer thigh where that bullet was lodged. He didn't want to remove it, only a fool would do that, but he wanted to pull the leg to his body…that instinct that always overcomes someone when they've been injured.

Settling for the fetal position was quite difficult and not nearly as effective when his arms were pulled behind his back. The cold was setting in. It was, after all, only just before 5am, and even in June mornings were chilly in Central.

He shivered a bit, tried to pull his knees close to his chest. _No one's going to save me._ A pitiful thought, really. Something he shouldn't be thinking. But his black hair was sticking to his face now in the sweat that had to be from his trembling fear…because it was still too damn cold to be from anything else.

-------------------

Havoc had sprinted clear from his kitchen to the front steps of Central Headquarters where he finally stopped in his tracks, bent over with his hands on his knees, and gasped for breath. It was cool, his throat was burning, and while running had worked his body up he still wished that he'd had time to grab his jacket before he left. But there, doubled over and spitting into the ground, he saw the pool of blood off to the side of him. _Oh fuck. What the hell is going on…_

Instinct told him to run inside, so he did. Though he didn't know exactly where he intended on going or who he planned on finding, he was racing up the stairs now despite his chest telling him _Dear Lord STOP RUNNING!_ All that smoking was definitely catching up to him, but an unlit cigarette was pulled from his ear and shoved into his pocket anyway…just so he didn't drop it. It was just about five in the morning, no one would be upstairs…people didn't come in to the office until around six. Well, some people came in early. People that had a lot of work to catch up on, or – _oh no_ – people that were told by a superior to change their shift.

Shit. She was probably here, and he skidded around the corner of the corridor leading to Mustang's office as he realized that thought. Gasping, trying to catch his breath, he still sprinted down that hall that didn't seem to end and then-

"Havoc!" He stopped running, turned around and kind of wished he hadn't heard that voice, of all voices to hear, but there it was. And he might as well deal with it properly.

"Riza...I…where…can't…find…"

"Catch your breath, Lieutenant." She came out of the second office, her face was white and she looked uncharacteristically flustered. "And pull yourself together, you look like hell. Where's the Colonel?"

"Gone…where…Ed…" He was doubled over again, hands on his knees and talking to the ground if nothing else. The woman swallowed hard.

"Ed got kidnapped and I couldn't get the car's license plate. I was just calling Mustang's house but he's not there– wait what do you mean he's _gone?_"

"Gone…shot…couldn'tsee…plate…either…"

"Shit. Shot? Where is Hughes?" She was marching in to the side office again, headed straight for the phone. Havoc followed, standing erect slowly with his hands on his hips, but he regained his breath. _Do I really look like hell?_ He absentmindedly brushed his uniform pants off, and realized the undershirt he was wearing was not one of his better looking ones. _Ah fuck it…_

"No use, you know everyone below Colonel is all on that stupid retraining and reevaluation thing the Fuhrer ordered." Something occurred to him. "Wait, why aren't you on it?"

She lowered her head, and if he wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw her blush a bit. "The Colonel convinced them it would be unnecessary for an officer of my caliber." Shaking her head and looking back up at Havoc, she jibed, "So what excuse is there for _you_ not being there?"

"Cute. Very cute." His eyes squinted as he crossed his arms now. "Roy told them he didn't want to be left without protection from any of his officers. So he picked _me_ to stay with him."

He saw the disgust well up in her eyes, but she kept her composure as she shot back with, "Well my mother did always tell me that the stupid find comfort only in each other." She was leaving the room now, turning right down the hallway and walking so fast that it was hard for Havoc to keep up.

"Hey where are you going!"

"To find the Colonel and Fullmetal," she yelled back over her shoulder. "Where do you _think_ I'm going?"

"Well wait for me for God's sake!" She quickened her pace.

"We can't afford to wait anymore. It's been about 23 minutes since I saw the car drive away from the steps, which means they could have gotten pretty far. Where did you say you were with the Colonel?"

"I _didn't_ say. And I wasn't with him." She stopped immediately.

"Well then how do you know this happened, exactly?" Her tone was more than annoyed, it verged on homicidal. Hands on the hips and head tilted to the side (and a gun at her back) – this was a woman that no one wanted to mess with.

"I uh…" _Oh shit._ "It happened in front of my house."

He had caught up to her now, because she was standing perfectly still with an incredulous look on her face. He knew where this was going…and he didn't like it.

"What in the hell was the Colonel doing at your house before 5 in the morning!"

It was that accusing tone she always got with him. She always knew he was up to something, there was more to a story, that there was some hidden motive behind every single word that came out of his mouth. _Maybe Riza and Roy really were right for each other._ He continued forward with his head down, passing her now on his left as she stared at him with her big eyes demanding an explanation.

It may have been unlike her, but she still stood there utterly speechless for a few seconds after he had quietly but firmly answered her inquiry with, "We should get moving," and continued down the hallway.

"Jean! Get back here! I deserve an explanation!" He wasn't turning back; he had the upper hand now. "Second Lieutenant, as a higher ranking officer, I _demand_ an explanation!" Silence returned her calls, and she thought she saw a small puff of cigarette smoke as he turned into the stairwell. "Dammit Jean, put that cigarette out!" She trotted after him. "And wait for me!"

-------------------

It was hell on the shoulders, hanging from the ceiling by his hands like this. His feet were bound tightly, and if he got his momentum going his toes barely scraped along the rough cement floor. Under any other circumstances hanging there naked could have been strangely erotic, but as the door to his isolated room opened and a burly figure entered, any sexual thoughts were forced out of his mind immediately. He was short and stout, but not someone you'd like to meet in a dark alley. The brown pants hung off his waist because of the big belly he had, and his white t-shirt was stained in too many places to even be considered white anymore.

"Ah…the great Colonel Mustang." The dark man sneered at Roy, face hidden behind the greasy brown hair that fell to the front of his head. The voice was just as slimy as his hair looked, which was fitting, Roy supposed. "The feared and adored Flame Alchemist."

"The very same," Roy shot back, his voice calm and cool like it always was, and like he knew it had to be if he had any intentions of getting out of this.

"So I hear you're to be a Brigadier General soon…maybe within the week." The man began to pace around Roy, as if taking it all in that he – or even _anyone_ for that matter – had actually succeeded in capturing the Colonel.

"You've heard the truth then."

"And I also hear you could be General quicker than a little snap of your priceless fingers."

"Well now we're talking rumors, good man."

Laughter overcame the stout man as he passed in front of Roy. He stopped with his back to the door, stubby little hands on his hips, and continued his laughing as Roy stared in disdain, trying desperately not to think about swinging forward and knocking his feet right into this asshole's jaw.

"Rumors? No, no that's no rumor. I _know_ your plans."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

The man lunged forward and drew a knife up to Mustang's throat. Instinct took over then as Roy quickly flinched back from the cold steel. His eyes faltered and that was bad enough, but his body still hadn't quite adjusted to being totally naked in the cold of this room, so it shivered a bit at what was obviously an inopportune moment. He was sure the man noticed.

"Oh yes, I know everything about you Mustang. I know your plans to be Fuhrer. I know each and every one of your associates and where they all live. I know where you eat, who you sleep with, and what time you take a shit every day." He brought the knife down and Mustang exhaled more audibly than he'd have liked. "But there's one thing I don't know, and it's the one thing that matters, Mustang." He resumed his pacing in a circle around Roy's hanging body. "You were successful in forging a stone a few years ago, and I need to know how. Now you're going to tell me."

"No…no I don't think I will." There was no hesitation in Roy's voice. There never was when it came to the stone.

"Well I figured you'd say that. Which is all well and fine if-" A spine-chilling scream cut him off. "Ah such _wonderful _timing, boy."

A look of terror crossed Mustang's face and held there despite his intents as he managed through gritted teeth, "Who was that." Not a question: a demand for an answer.

"That? Oh come now, dear Colonel, surely you should know _that_ scream."

"Listen you fucker, you let him go, he's got nothing-"

"The Elric boy has EVERYTHING to do with this!" And the man walked forward quickly and all too casually pushed the blade of his knife deep into Roy's right thigh. Mustang's dark eyes closed tightly, his head fell as he sharply inhaled and held back a yell. "Now you will cooperate. You _will_ tell me how you forged that stone." The knife twisted, Roy's eyes squeezed tighter and he felt the tears coming. "And if you don't-" The blade was removed.

"Elric will die."

There was another desperate scream from a different room, and Roy spit directly in the man's face.

"That's not him you shithead, I'm not stupid. Edward Elric does not scream from pain."

Again the man threw back his head and laughed. Now drawing a bottle from his jacket pocket, he advanced towards Roy again.

"Oh Colonel, be realistic. This isn't pain." The cap of the bottle was loosened, a dropper withdrawn from his other pocket. "This is _torture_. And you both will become very familiar with it."

It took only three drops of the clear green liquid over Roy's stab wound to make him bite into his tongue to avoid a scream.

"Oh let it out, Great Colonel Mustang! It won't let up. This serum fights off your body fighting it off. The pain will neither dull nor subside." Three more drops went over the bullet hole. Roy grunted and threw his head back now, teeth digging into each other so hard he felt he may very well break his own jaw…and it might feel better than this. "But this serum can be neutralized, and I'll do that just as soon as you give me your secret."

Tears were welling up. The pain was unlike anything he could have imagined.

"Not…going…to happen…"

"Very well." The man crossed to the door and grasped the handle. "But just think about that…if you truly want it to be your final decision. I'm going to go pay Mr. Elric a little visit."

The door shut swiftly behind him, and Roy couldn't help it when he heard himself scream, "NOOO!"

-------------------

"Yes, for the last time I know where we're going!"

Jean's hands were fixed on the wheel of the state car they'd commandeered and his knuckles were turning white because he grasped it so tightly.

"It's the same place we were going ten minutes ago, now put the damn map away!"

Riza was in the front seat, still criss-crossing her fingers across the map and sputtering out things like, "But with a decent speed they could have gone…" and "Given the time it takes to travel, we should arrive…"

"Honestly! Riza! I can see the damn building, and if you'd look up you'd see it too!"

"Do NOT talk down to me like that Jean, I'm only trying to make sure we've taken everything in to account in terms of – oh hey, I think that's the building."

"No shit."

Only an hour into the day Jean realized it was going to be a long one. This short trip in the car with Riza just made it longer.

"Park here…we'll have to walk up in order to keep our cover."

"Now we have to go stealth too?" He slid the shifter into park after positioning the car around a corner next to what appeared to be another deserted building.

"Honestly, how else do you expect the two of us to take over a building that I can only assume is _full_ of men that just successfully kidnapped our two best alchemists? Do you _ever_ think, or do you just complain first?" The car door shut simultaneously with her comments. Jean got out of the car and followed after the woman.

"Well I don't know, do you ever lay off or do you just like to make people feel awful about themselves?"

"Oh come off it Jean, you know you're being totally-"

"_I'm _the one who's at fault here, I'm sure. Ya know, maybe I should just go back. I'm sure you can handle everything on your own, because you'd probably do it better than anyone else anyway, right?"

"Fine! Leave like you always do! Head out to a strip club, go get drunk! That will DEFINITELY save Roy and Ed!"

"Oh stuff it, Riza. Don't act like you know a damn thing about-"

"Get down!"

Her voice was hushed, so because of that, and ONLY because of that, Jean ducked along with her behind a car. A car that looked oddly familiar to him. _Oh fuck, this is the car from this morning._

"Riza," he began in a whisper, "this is the car I saw in fr-"

"Sssh!"

She pointed towards the front of the building. Two men stood there clad in full military uniforms, though it looked to Jean as if they might have been an older issue, maybe from five years back. Subtle differences – they have new boots now, and the pants fit just a bit differently – but he picked up on it. Observation, that was the key. There was something not right about those two. Their faces were hard to make out from this far away, but he was pretty sure that he recognized them as officers that got discharged a few years ago. _Dishonorably discharged actually…_

_What the hell?_

"We have to move in slowly Lieutenant." Riza's speech was barely audible, and her eyes were fixed on the two men at the door. "I can keep cover from here and I have a good shot, so if you can get around the left you can – are you listening Lieutenant?"

"No, I'm not." Her head whipped around, mouth and eyes wide. Clearly she was insulted. "Riza, these guys are military."

"Those are old uniforms, Jean," she snipped. "It _is_ possible that being a radical group they got their hands on some of our trash for this specific purpose. It's not that uncomm-"

"No, listen to me. I recognize them. That's Brash, on the right. I can't remember anyone else with bright red hair like that. And Hardy on the left…I'm almost positive."

"Brash and Hardy…I think I remember them from a few years back. Those two were nearly inseparable. Wait, what happened to them?"

"Dishonorable Discharge. Willfully disobeying the order of a commissioned officer. Both of them."

Riza pursed her lips together. "Something's not right here."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"Well congratulations for figuring something out before me for once, Jean." She rolled her eyes. "Military or not, they have the Colonel and we can take all measures to recover him. We can ask questions later. I need you to go around my left, stay behind that other car. I have a clean shot on Brash; take one on Hardy on my signal."

"I can't."

"Excuse me?"

_Well this is embarrassing._

"What seems to be the problem Lieutenant?"

"…I don't have a gun."

"Oh for God's sake…"


	10. Screaming Whispers

"You came on a rescue mission _without a weapon?" _That patronizing voice could still get to him. It made his veins bubble up, and Jean clenched his fists tightly as he fought against what he really wanted to scream at her.

"Well I hadn't exactly planned on rescuing anyone when I got up, alright!"

"Well what then _was_ your plan when you decided to run on over to headquarters, half-dressed in uniform and completely unarmed?"

If they were dumb enough to speak above a murmur, they'd have been heard all the way in Lior. But to avoid being spotted by the two guards still at attention outside the door, they stuck with screaming whispers…which was taking a lot of self-control by both parties.

"_I didn't have one_. Ok? Happy? I just knew I had to do something." He paused for a second as he considered her. "And I'm not totally useless without a gun, unlike _some_ people."

"You are such a prick."

"And you're a self-righteous bitch. What's your point."

She turned away sharply then, and moved from kneeling to sitting with her back against the car that she knew held Mustang not too long ago. Mustang…probably bound and stripped of his gloves. Sure he was a well above-average fighter, but if he'd been shot like Ed had been, he was probably rendered defenseless. Overpowered, outnumbered, and surely by now… She had to stop that thought. Close her eyes. Take a deep breath. Regain her composure.

"If we keep this up," she started slowly, "we're going to be too late."

Jean didn't quite know what to say to that. Sure he knew it was true, but she didn't have to go and _say_ it. Neither one of them wanted to really think about what the consequences of this whole thing could be. And was that supposed to be her way of calling a truce for now, or what? Was he just supposed to make amends, just for now…just to get through this? He didn't know. And so he just slumped down next to her, kept his distance, and stuck an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

"You're right. If we let him die in there, he'll kill us."

She couldn't help but smile at that.

-------------------

The Colonel was still trying to place how he knew that vile man that appeared to be in charge of this whole thing. Something about his wicked sneer was oddly familiar, but at the same time there was something so different about his mannerisms that any recognition was thrown out.

The feeling that he might pass out was starting to get to Roy, that much he couldn't deny, but he was doing his best to still make no sounds of pain. That slimeball was right about the serum not allowing the soreness to subside; this was surely more than he thought the human body could handle. And if they were doing this to him…he only imagined what was causing Ed's muffled protests from down the hall…

"_You're so pretty, boy. Why do you want to let me do this to you? I'm ruining that perfect little face of yours. I don't think you'll recover from this..."_

"_Shut up."_

"_Well if the Great Colonel couldn't recover, I don't see how the pipsqueak Fullmetal-"_

"_Shut UP!"_

"_Now now, don't get testy. There's no need to raise your voice. I just ask that you cooperate."_

"_Let Mustang go."_

"_I'm afraid that's not possible."_

"_You shithead, I'm not asking, I'm telling you to let Must-"_

Roy's head shot up from the sound of Ed's scream. Well they _were_ muffled. But now…now this was clear agony. He had to do something…but what could he do? Without his gloves, maybe he _was_ useless. Fuck.

He wriggled around by his rope-bound hands, which served no other purpose than making the open burns on his wrists even worse, but he couldn't stand just hanging there while Ed was being hurt.

"_He is _dead_, Elric. It's just you left now, and if you don't want to die as well, I strongly urge that you tell me how you did it."_

"_That's bullshit. A pussy like you couldn't kill Roy fucking Mustang."_

"_Pussy, eh? Such manners. I suppose I should return that gesture."_

The blood from his wrists started trickling down his chest. Funny, he hadn't known he was bleeding from there. His focus was too much on the burning pain in his legs, too much on Edward's screams. _That can't really be him_, he rationalized to himself. Edward had never shown pain before; he wouldn't start now in a situation like this. Those screams weren't real. So this whole thing wasn't real. It simply could not be happening.

Had he been this careless? Why was his guard down? These men were so efficient…or – _shit_ – he'd become too predictable in going to Havoc's every morning for the past five days. But how did they get Edward? Ed knew better than to follow a routine other than going to work. And certainly they hadn't captured him at headquarters; there was too much security there. Too much on any ordinary day...but wait-

Another horrid scream and Roy's previous thoughts were put off. Whatever they were doing or saying or threatening, it had broken Edward…and that worried Roy more than anything else.

"_He is DEAD, Elric! Gone, deceased, passed on, expired!"_

"…_no…"_

"_Your pain will end if you stop this protest."_

"_No…"_

"_Elric, I've killed the Flame Alchemist with just a swipe of this blade-"_

"_Roy."_

"_-and I can do the same to you!"_

"_ROOOOOOOY!"_

It might have been the sound of his name through a voice clearly in such pain, a voice that belonged to Edward, whom he'd tried so hard to protect from this, from everything. Or maybe it was knowing that he was helpless, and no one knew he was here, so no one could save him. It might have even been just the knowledge that this would be the end of Roy Mustang, and he'd officially failed his team that had served and sacrificed everything for _him_.

But whatever it was, it almost made him cry out in that sound someone makes when there really are no words for their feelings. _Almost_. But instead, he felt his body start trembling as his breaths got shakier, and the blood was still trickling from his wrists when the first tear did the same down his cheek.

'_Why are you screaming his name, boy? I told you I've killed him! He can't hear you!"_

"_ROOOOOYY!"_

"_You are pathetic! Wouldn't he answer you if he was alive? Wouldn't he call back to his beloved Fullmetal prodigy?"_

"_ROO…oooo…oyyyy…"_

"_Stop yelling for that bastard and tell me how you forged the stone before I-"_

"_THEN KILL ME NOW!"_

_Edward._

_No._

Roy heard a strangled yell after that. And then just silence.

It was true that Mustang didn't believe in God, but right then he was praying.

-------------------

"Oh God…did you…?"

"Yea." He'd heard it. That unmistakable yell of Edward Elric that everyone in the military – and well, probably all of Amestris – had come to know so well.

"We have to get in there now." Hawkeye looked desperate. Her big eyes were filled with tears and Jean wanted (for reasons he didn't quite understand) to do anything in his power to make them go away.

"Ok." He thought quickly, rummaged through his brain for any semblance of a plan. "Ok, I have an idea." Havoc spoke quickly and quietly, and for once he was giving the orders as Hawkeye listened to every word without a sound. But when he said, "And I'll find the room they're holding Ed in and break the fucking door down," she spoke without thinking.

"But we have to find the Colonel first." He stared at her for a moment before she continued. "Well, I just mean there are more than likely at least a few alchemists in there if they managed to capture the Colonel and Fullmetal both. And, and, we'd be a lot better off, probably safer if we could get him…if he were…"

She trailed off when she saw the look on Jean's face. He'd lost his color, and his eyes were closed, mouth pursed sadly around that cigarette.

"Havoc, we have to protect him, that's what we're here for!"

She stared at him, searching for some answer, any reaction, and then his eyes opened and he spoke quietly, deeply, and perhaps a bit shakily as he stared at the dusty ground in front of him.

"You know this Lieutenant. We've been given orders from Mustang." She was sure his voice cracked then, but he coughed quietly to cover it up. "In a situation involving the Colonel and Fullmetal, we are to make Edward our priority, ensure his safety, and only after he is removed from any danger can we think of the Colonel's welfare."

It hurt him to say that, and as he tried to swallow the enormous lump in his throat, something in the pit of his stomach told him he was betraying the man who'd just done so much to help him. One look at Riza told him she felt the same way.

Silence hung in the air. The disquiet of the situation didn't need to be remarked upon.

But then all at once Riza's face changed as she propped herself up on the one knee and turned to face the building. Extending her arms over the hood of the car while keeping he head low, she brought her gun out into the open and peered through the sight.

"Then let's follow our orders and save the Major. We owe the Colonel that much. Are you ready?" Her eyes were fixed down the barrel of that gun as they had been so many other times before, and the tears had disappeared.

She looked so strong and so…beautiful. And Havoc felt like he had to tell her that, tell her _something_ for God's sake. This was all wrong, he'd fucked up so badly and all of a sudden now – NOW of course when he could very well die in a few moments – now he wanted to take back every word he'd said, everything he'd done, and he just wanted to tell her…_something._

"Havoc. I have my shot and I need to take it while they're still distracted. Now _are you ready?_" Her eyes were still on the guards.

"I don't know." And his eyes were still on the ground.

"Lieutenant, I understand that entering a hostage situation without a weapon is less than ideal, but need I remind you this _is_ your plan, and as it stands it is our _only_ plan. I have your back, and this is our only chance-"

"No…shit, I don't care about that. Riza, there's a good chance that I, or we…I mean, we might not…dammit." _Why can't I speak correctly?_ "I just feel like I should…like I have to say-"

"I still love you too, Jean."

"…I…but…"

"I'm taking this shot now. So you'd better get going."

There were two quick explosions from her gun, and he was off running, lighting his cigarette and smiling as the two bodies fell in front of him.

-------------------

That final scream of Edward was still ringing in Mustang's ears when the door to his isolated run-down room opened and the greaseball entered. His eyes were burning from the pain of what he'd heard and the pain still in his legs, but he managed them open to see the man who entered. _That face…how do I know your face…_

"Enjoy the concert, Colonel? That boy put on quite a performance, one of the best I've heard I'd say." Mustang couldn't hide his anguish entirely, but he sure as hell tried his damnedest to meet this asshole's stare and kill him with a look. "He didn't _have_ to die, you know. This is entirely your fault. For God's sake, you didn't even answer him when he was screaming your name. What kind of heartless beast are you?"

"I am not heartless. I am only a soldier."

His voice was stern. It was a forced confidence that anyone who knew him could have seen right through, but it worked for this situation. The man looked slightly taken aback.

"A…a _soldier_? Now I thought soldiers lived to protect their brothers. I thought _real_ soldiers go to any lengths to put the group before themselves, would they not?" His eyes narrowed as he sneered at Mustang, a disgusted look on his face. "You're no solder. You're just a selfish coward who let a boy die so you could live."

That killed Mustang to hear. But he didn't show it – COULDN'T show it. Or the man would see he'd been broken. And Mustang would _not_ be broken.

"Fullmetal knew his place."

"As what, a sacrifice for _your_ pride?"

"No. A sacrifice for something he believes in." There was an unrelenting certainty in his voice even though Roy thought he might break down despite his best efforts. _I believe in it too. It should be me and not him…_

The two men glared at each other, and the tension there was greater than it should have been, what with one of them still hung up, defenseless and bleeding, and the other with a very visible, large, bloody knife in his grip. The former should NOT have had the upper hand.

And then it clicked, just like that.

The face, his face…an ex-Colonel. But what was wrong with it? It was distorted…different – mangled and animalistic almost. Roy studied that face, studied every feature to try to place the name to it, and he made sure to do it with an intensity in his glare that let the opposing man know too that Roy Mustang was not broken.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you, Mustang."

Roy wanted to smirk at him, take that punch and give him one right back. Hell, dying didn't really seem so awful just then, so maybe it was laughable. But something had to keep him alive. Edward had to. Edward wasn't dead…_he couldn't be…_so Roy still had to live for him, for the vain wish that he could still save him...the prayer he'd been praying since he met the kid.

"Well I hope I don't disappoint."

The man started forward, in a slow gate that Mustang knew was only for dramatic purposes. He was supposed to be trembling in fear; he was supposed to be terrified. But for some reason, he wasn't. It was like something was there, something calming him and telling him he was going to be fine. He'd come this far with everything, and Ed may have died for _his_ cause, but Roy didn't have to do the same. He still had work to be done, and as that man advanced toward him and the light from the ceiling bounced off that glaring knife and the pain in his leg was still making his eyes water...Mustang's head shot up and glanced at the door. The man spun on his heels and stared that way as well.

"What the hell was that?" he screamed out into the hall as he walked toward the open door. There was a commotion, Roy thought he'd heard gunshots but he wasn't sure. The few men out in the hall were astir, and before he had time to really think about the possibilities, he saw a figure clad in blue pants and a black shirt sprint past the door.

He might have second guessed who it was if it wasn't for the faint trail of smoke that hung after him.

Now _that_ was absurd…and Mustang was beginning a laugh through gritted teeth as the greasy man yelled, slamming the door behind him.

"What is this about, Mustang?"

Roy couldn't answer. He was laughing too hard at the turn this situation had just taken.


	11. For the Record

Jean sprinted ahead, carrying the two guns he had scooped up from the recently deceased Hardy and Brash. He stared down the hall and came to a quick stop when one, two, three men in uniform filed out of the furthest door. There wasn't much time for him to think, but he did have enough sense to fire two shots from the rifle in his right hand to answer the bullets directed at him. He'd have fired the other gun too, only as he ducked into the dark room on his left, he realized a few problems.

For one, the gun wouldn't fire because it had no ammo, and those two shots left his first gun dry. And second, his left arm didn't want to do much moving. Glancing down at his shoulder he saw the blood seeping through his dirty white t-shirt. One of the bullets had hit him pretty solidly, which was bad enough. But it occurred to him then that in his rush to get to cover after being hit, he'd neglected to check the other two doors he had passed.

_Hawkeye's gonna kill me. And God dammit, I dropped my fucking cigarette. This is a terrible day._

It was his own damn plan after all. Not that it was much of a plan anyway, but it was simple enough. Get in there. Cause a ruckus. Take out anyone he could and dammit all he had to do was look quickly in each room for any sign of Edward, but being the idiot he was, he'd fucked up the plan already and now he heard footsteps coming for him.

So…out of ammo, bleeding badly, and now seriously ticked off, Jean reached forward for one of the guns. Leaning out the door he quickly cocked his arm back and launched the weapon down the hall at the advancing men. Immediately ducking back into the room for cover from the incoming gunfire, he didn't get to see the impact, but he heard a yell and a thump, which could only mean success.

Now sure, they were expecting it this time, but what other option did he have? Jean quickly lunged for the other gun and prepared to throw his second projectile down the hall, when he heard three shots in quick succession from the entrance. He whipped his head around and saw Hawkeye's figure moving quickly towards him, her gun leading the way.

"Lieutenant, if you don't intend on firing that gun, get back in that room!"

He couldn't help but smile as he yelled back to her. "I'm out of ammo!"

"Dammit Jean!"

He laughed, because that was all she could come up with. But there she was, yelling over gunfire and the commotion from their enemies, and her voice was all he could hear. Two men yelled out in pain and then finally she came into view in the doorway. Out of breath and uncharacteristically flushed, Hawkeye stood just inside the frame, her eyes darting between Havoc's figure and the hallway, which was empty for now, save for the three bodies sprawled on the floor.

"How the hell did you get through all their ammo already?" Her hands moved quickly, comfortable with the motions of changing her empty clip.

"I didn't. The gun I threw only had two bullets. This one was already empty." He leaned forward and grasped the other gun. Trying to hand it up to her, he winced loudly, dropping the rifle and clutching his shoulder.

Riza was halfway out the door, ready to move on, but she stopped at his noise and her head snapped quickly in his direction. "Were you hit?"

The room was dark, but Jean wasn't blind. He saw the concern in her eyes. "I'm fine." What else could he say? But she was staring into _him _then, doubting his claim, and he saw the caring, and the kindness, and everything he loved in her. He saw everything she didn't see in herself, and everything she didn't allow anyone to see. And just a second too late, he saw a dark figure come behind her, take her gun and kick her into the room Havoc sat in.

Hawkeye let out a yelp and fell into his arms, or maybe he reached out to catch her. Either way, there they were with a gun pointed squarely at them.

"Well well…what's this?" Riza tried to push up from Jean's lap, but it must have been instinct that made him pull her to him with his one good arm and then slide into a position so that the woman was behind him. "A sort of rescue mission, eh? Well I do believe you've failed now, haven't you."

The man was disgusting, Jean thought. Dirty and slimy, and he reminded Havoc an awful lot of Butch the way he dragged out some vowels and sneered while he spoke.

"So. Who tipped you two off?"

"Where is Edward Elric?"

Even Jean was startled by the confidence in his voice. And then he was startled by the response of just...laughter.

"The boy? You came for _him_? Ha!"

"_Where is Edward Elric?_" And this time Jean felt like he might stand up. He might find that strength that his voice was faking and punch this asshole in the face. But he didn't. Because no sooner did his question escape his lips, he had a gun barrel on his forehead and he heard the familiar sound of it being cocked. It was a strange reaction, Jean thought, that he closed his eyes as tightly as he possibly could. He'd always figured that he might have liked to see everything he could before he died.

"No more questions, blondie." The man kicked the empty rifle on the floor out into the hallway. "And no toys."

Hawkeye shuddered behind him, and Jean realized that her hands were bunching up his shirt, her quick breaths were flicking right at his neck, her sweet swell masked the sickening stench of the room…and if he had to die right here at the hands of this asshole, at least he had the comfort of her again when he died. And he'd keep his eyes open.

But he worried too much maybe, because just as he opened his eyes, the man disarmed the gun and brought his arm down, just leaving it lazily pointed at them while he stepped backwards out into the hallway.

"Rune…get up!" They heard some movement, then a low struggling voice.

"Sir…"

"Get UP dammit! What the hell is wrong with you? And where the fuck are Brash and Hardy?" The man was turning his head, searching for those whose names he was calling.

"Mmm…dead sir…"

"And those two?" Jean could see him motion to what had to be the two men Hawkeye had shot down. The survivor, Rune he was called, must have only been knocked out by Havoc's throw.

"Sir…dead too…"

"And why aren't _you_ dead then?"

"Uh…I…"

"Dammit nevermind, get over here! You're NOT dead, so you _might_ still be of some use to me." Jean saw a figure come into the doorway. The soldier, or whatever he was, rubbed his head as he reached the stout amn, who promptly thrust Hawkeye's pistol into his hand. "Guard this door. I'm going to get Ribald and Pollit from the back gate…unless they went and got themselves killed too! Now don't let them leave this room!"

"Sir."

The soldier stood upright, seemingly recovered, back against the wall outside the door. The stout man came fully into the doorway then, and Jean could make out a smug grin on his oddly familiar face.

"And you two. You came to recover Mr. Elric, yes? Well good news, you've already found him."

With that, the man flicked the light on, turned on his heels, and slammed and locked the door. Jean and Riza didn't quite understand, and didn't quite know what to do. But as his eyes adjusted to the bright light and he scanned around the room, it became pretty clear to Jean what the man meant, what the small was, why the room felt so…disgusting. He felt sick to his stomach and he was sure Riza felt the same way, as he heard a quiet gasp and felt her face in his back.

There, at the back of the room, was Edward. He hung from one arm, the automail one detached and tossed in the corner like trash. His legs (both fles, which _still_ made Jean's stomach do odd somersaults) had rope connecting them to hooks in the ground. His head hung forward, blonde hair red with blood and skin white, like a person gets when they're in shock from an accident. And there was blood…blood everywhere and Jean couldn't believe what he was seeing.

There were gashes, huge wounds all over the body of the boy, and some were still bleeding and some were fizzing and some looked like they'd been blown right open. And Jean knew he should move. Get up, go to Edward, get him down and save him…but he found that his left arm wasn't the only part that didn't want to move.

-------------------

That bastard had hid inside the closed door of Mustang's room while the fight had gone on out in the hall. He kept quiet and Mustang watched him, _the coward_, as he listened to the gunfire and the yells of his own men dying. He had gagged Mustang and taped his mouth closed before the hall went silent, so the alchemist couldn't yell for help. And he had drawn a blade down Mustang's side once again and sneered, "Say goodbye to your friends," before he left the room quietly, that knife shimmering red with Mustang's fresh blood.

Up until that point, Roy hadn't been very scared for Havoc, and not just because the Second Lieutenant was (as everyone knew) an extremely adept fighter, armed or otherwise. Mustang heard a yell that he swore was Jean, and yes, the worst thought crossed his mind, but he still wasn't scared for him. Because soon after, he heard a very strong, very confident voice over the gunfire. And he knew Havoc wasn't alone.

But the man had left the room, and even though he was hurting all over, Roy laughed. Because that bastard was walking out to two of the best marksman, two of the most relentless fighters, and two of the strongest people he'd ever known.

_They're gonna kill that fucker._

He had to reassure himself of that.

_And they'll rescue me. And they'll find Edward. And everything will be ok, because Edward will survive this._

But then it all came tumbling down, as it so often does in the lives of those that try to live the virtuous life, those that try to fix everything and do it all themselves. He heard the scream, _her_ scream, which meant something had gone wrong. And his mind raced, but what could he do?

So he had to listen to that fucking ex-Colonel yell to his men. His mind was blank; he just listened. There was movement, and a door was slammed shut. Loud footsteps got softer as they got further, and the hall was silent once again.

He could only listen to that silence. Because he was totally useless.

It was bad enough he was here, like this…all because of his own stupidity. But he needed to be rescued, that's what hurt the most…more than any of the wounds on his body. And that was all he could think, that he was miserably, wretchedly, inadequate this time around. And they were all paying brutally for it.

He had more than ample time to mull that over. So Roy hung in a completely calm state, accepting his fate, and he felt the blood still trickling down his side. It seemed to have stopped from his wrists, which was nice. That kind of tickled after a while. It was still quiet in the hall.

Roy didn't notice that he'd been holding his breath.

Just for the record, he wasn't thinking of Edward. Or Jean or Riza or Maes or anyone. Not even himself. He was thinking about the bug he saw crawling across the floor just beneath his dangling toes. It might have been nice to be a bug just then, Roy realized. It was just doing its little bug thing, going on its little bug way, and he just wanted desperately not to disturb it. Who knows where the bug was going, or what it was planning to do? At the time, that bug's happiness meant a lot to Roy.

Just for the record, he knew he wasn't making much sense. He knew there were much bigger things going on than a bug's daily plans. But in the silence of his room, Roy had practically driven himself mad with thoughts. Maybe that bug wasn't so off from himself. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten comfortable, let someone get in his way, stomp their toes right in his little bug path.

_You've gone crazy Colonel Mustang. You have nothing in common with a bug._

Except maybe the part where it gets squashed in the end. That…he saw coming up pretty quickly, especially because quiet footsteps grew louder as they got closer, and there were more this time. And the disgusting voice was starting again, and it kind of made Mustang sick to his stomach to listen to it.

"You worthless fools, this is simple. There are two pests in there I need eliminated." _Pests._ "Neither of them are alchemists, which means they're completely useless." _Useless._ "So I don't care what you do to them, but get rid of them…and do it quickly."

_Mustang. Can you feel this?_

His wrists burned.

_You shit Colonel. Does it hurt?_

His eyes burned.

_Is that even you in there?_

He didn't really want to try anymore. It was the end for him, he knew it. Jean and Riza would die; Edward was already gone. But that voice, in his head…was there.

_Do something. **Move forward**._

And he knew that he could…there had to be something. Roy tugged at the ropes binding his arms. He wriggled around, grinding those ropes further into his skin, reopening the wounds on his wrists and forcing them to bleed again. So he'd failed Edward, but fuck if he'd let two of his best friends die too. They were still fighting for their cause, _Edward's _cause…and that gave him a surge of self-efficacy that made him believe he could squirm and pull and maneuver his way out of there and do something for fuck's sake.

Just for the record, Mustang didn't honestly believe Edward was dead. Sure, the facts were there. He hadn't heard a sound from the direction of his room since that awful yell which seemed like an eternity ago. But when you've been hanging from your wrists for a good two hours and you're naked and bleeding and cold and you can't feel your fingers…nothing really seems to be based on reality anymore. Because by all accounts, Roy figured he still shouldn't even be there.

By all accounts, he should be dead too.

He heard that awful voice yell a few more obscene insults. It laughed a bit. It told the others that it would be back after he finished off "Colonel Pony" in the other room.

So Roy hung there. Listening. Seething. And totally and completely unable to do anything. It didn't matter, really. Anything he did at this point was too late, not enough...he realized that now after wasting his energy that only resulted in the tickling trickle of blood from his wrists once again. They were going to die. Jean and Riza had come here to save him and Edward, and now because of his own incompetence…weakness…they were going to die.

He wanted to believe it wasn't that simple.

But he was so tired…and everything hurt so badly…and he heard Jean's voice yell as the door to his own room opened.

And just for the record, Roy already felt dead.


	12. This Sad Exchange

The door to their room had closed and locked maybe five minutes ago. Two of those minutes Jean spent struggling with one good and one wounded arm to get Edward down, and the other three were just as it was now. It might have been cute, the scene in the otherwise dismal room Jean and Riza were locked in. Edward's head lay on Hawkeye's lap, her hand stroking through his long blonde hair. Jean sat against the wall, near enough but far away, just watching. It might have been.

But Edward wasn't moving, Riza's hand was becoming red with blood, and Jean had taken his shirt off, now sat tearing it apart into strips. His mind was far away, that familiar empty, dazed look in his eyes. The wall across from him with its rusted pipes and cracked tile was his focus, though even he didn't know why, and Jean continued his systematic tearing as his mind shifted further and further from this room.

"_And it's just an odd feeling – do you want another drink?"_  
"_No thanks."_  
"_It's an odd feeling to just think that I might have found someone that I can – sandwich?"_  
"_I'm good."_  
"_That I can spend the rest of my life with. It's the last one, you sure?"_  
"_Yea, man, I'm sure."_  
"_Suit yourself. I don't know though, what if my gut is wrong?"_  
"_It's probably not."  
"Probably doesn't help me much. This is a serious commitment."_  
"_Yea."_  
"_I just don't want to get ahead of myself, ya know?"_  
"_Yea."_  
"_Havoc, are you even listening?"_  
"_Yea. Yea of course I am. Serious commitment. Soul mates. Got it."  
"What's bothering you?"_  
"_Nothing. Go on, I'm listening."  
"No, what's going on?"_  
"_I'm fine, ok? Hand me that extra sandwich."  
"Thought you'd want it. Now come on. Did I say something wrong? Did I do something to upset you?"_  
"_Well no, I mean, kind of, but no, it's just -"_  
"_What did I do?"_  
"_You came here, Mustang. That's all. And you've been coming here and you're giving me food and money and you're saving my ass."  
"…I'm afraid I don't see the problem."_  
"_You're doing all of this for me, and I can't do shit for you. I have no money, I have nothing to give -"  
"Stop."_

Another minute passed staring at that wall as he thought of somewhere, sometime, that wasn't here and now. Another rip, another piece of shirt was laid on the pile. His arm was aching and this repeated motion didn't help, but the wound on his left shoulder had worsened when he pulled Edward down from the ropes and he had to do something about it.

"Jean…" Her voice was a whisper.

"Hmm." His was a grunt.

"Jean, what are you doing?"

He tore another strip. "Help me," he instructed her, but his attention still wasn't on her. He was focused, even Hawkeye could tell, but it was on something that only he knew. And that something was a sometime that felt like forever ago, but in truth was only a day earlier.

"_Havoc, ok. Look. I put on this uniform every morning, right? And you see me. I get paraded around as Colonel Mustang, and everyone has this idea of me. And sure, I want them to have that idea. Hell, I _made_ that idea. But they just see the uniform. The watch. The gloves. The fucking stripes and stars and medals. But look at me. I'm standing here with you, and do you even see that shit?"_  
"_Your uniform? Well…I…of course I see –"  
"No Havoc. I mean, when you look at me, what do you see?"  
"Come on Mustang, that's a weird –"  
"Just tell me what you see Havoc, please."  
"I don't know man, I see you. You're just Mustang."  
"Thank you. That's the point. I'm just Mustang."  
"…I don't get it."  
"Ok. At the risk of sounding quite stupid…you've let me be me. You see me without this uniform, and there are so few people that do."  
"Come on Roy, that doesn't mean as much –"  
"I give you my word. It means more to me than you can understand."_

It seemed like it was everything Hawkeye could do to remove her hands from Edward, to let him go slowly and reluctantly, and take the pieces of cloth that Havoc was handing to her. He was still somewhere else, his eyes still glazed over and not focused on this room. But he moved, went closer to her and faced his left shoulder at her chest.

"Use it like a bandage," he commanded in a dull, flat voice. "And tie it tight."

Jean didn't think of the pain he was seemingly inflicting on himself by wrapping his wounds so tightly. He only thought of what would enable him to move easier and quicker. And the pressure he was already feeling from the few pieces Hawkeye had tied was apparently doing the trick. The pinching, pulling, and twisting of skin under rough material was by no means soothing, but it calmed him. Jean focused on that pain now instead of the wall, hoping somehow it would take him away from here. Anything…to be away from here.

"_But it's not like what you've been doing for me…I'm not risking everything I have for you."  
"Oh you're not? Have you forgotten what we helped Ed and Al do? What my goal is in this Godforsaken military?"_  
"_Well no but that's –"_  
"_It's not different. I'm finally happy, Jean. I get to help you. I helped Edward restore Alphonse; I helped them get back on their feet. I helped Maes get past his injury and come back to the army. I helped Riza…well…with you. And Fury and Breda and Falman and Armstrong…I've gotten to help all of them find girlfriends or diets or just their sanity. But I never got to do anything for you because you always had yourself so together, and you've never needed my help or anyone's help, because you've always made your life work. And that's good, believe me. I'm just happy that I finally get a chance to be there for you in your worst time like you've been there for me all the time, and I hope I can help –"_  
"_Roy, you shouldn't have to."  
"I know that. Look, you're making this a lot harder than it should be. I'm not good at showing people that…that I genuinely care about them. It's not something I've ever really tried to do, but I feel like I need to now. And it's not like I'm helping you just so I can feel good about myself; I'm helping you so you can stand on your own. And so that you know that if you ever fall…someone will be there to catch you."_

Hawkeye finished tying her last knot and followed Havoc's vacant gaze, which fell upon Edward's body. She coughed slightly, tried to bring him back to their miserable state. Shaking his blonde head quickly, Jean looked up. "Good. Use the rest on Ed."

"But Jean, he…"

"I know. But just…cover him up or something. With whatever is left." Havoc swallowed hard. "Is he…cold?"

She seemed more uncomfortable then, as if that was even possible, but answered anyway, gently and slowly. "Not cold…but…not warm. And not…responding. Jean I don't know if he…I don't know what this all means. Could he still make it?"

"I don't know. I never paid attention during med training. But I figure, if he hasn't woken up yet, he's not gonna."

Maybe he tried to make himself sound as apathetic as he did, but it was probably a subconscious thing. He stood and crossed the room to stand at the door. Through the window he could barely see Rune still with his back flat against the wall, a gun in his hand, but no sign of any others. Behind him he heard the quiet rhythm of tearing and tying.

_Stand up Havoc. Move forward._

There was something telling him there was more he could do, something or someone telling him that this wasn't over yet, but Havoc couldn't help his complete lack of action. What could he do? He put his head against the door, hand on the knob that he twisted in vain, and felt the lock click in and stop the movement. Silence kept him from saying a word; he didn't want to disturb anything anymore. He couldn't help anything this time. He closed his eyes.

"_Yea but that's supposed to be me. I'm supposed to be there to risk my life for you, to make sure _you_ succeed."  
"You're not supposed to do anything. Do what you'd like; I don't deserve the risk of your life."  
"Roy, that's not what I meant."  
"No, Jean, but it's what_ I_ meant. In all honesty…I have a debt to you all that I'll never be able to repay. You've all given up too much for me and my goals, and I just want to make it clear that I appreciate it; I appreciate you. There may have been a time where I wouldn't have said this, and maybe I'll say it now just because of everything that's happened…but I would sacrifice anything for you, all of you, no matter what the time or place, even if it means giving up what I've worked for. I hope that's true in return, but I know that my life isn't worth –"  
"Don't say it. You know we would do anything for you. I mean, I guess I can't speak for everyone, but I'm sure they feel the same way as I do. For all you've given us, the opportunities and the strength and something to believe in…and each other…we owe you."_  
"_No you –"  
"I owe you, Roy."_

Turning to once again face the back of the room, Jean watched Riza, miserable as she was with pieces of Jean's shirt and blood in her hands. Strips of whitish cloth that were too small to really do anything for him were tied around various places of Edward's limbs. Her jacket lay across Ed's torso, and it struck Jean as almost amusing that even though Ed was taller than Hawkeye now, her jacket seemed to dwarf him as it covered him from chest to thigh…so what if it was sprawled across him to cover as much as possible. It made him look so small, so like a child…

Hawkeye had stopped tying. She sat now, staring at Edward's still body and Jean realized that he might have figured her thoughts out just then. Edward. They had known him since he was a child, and even if he wasn't anymore – and by all accounts he was an adult for longer than they gave him credit for – they still thought of him as a kid. Not meaning that he didn't have responsibility, or wasn't at the same level as them. But Jean just knew that he, Hawkeye, Mustang, all the way down to Fury and Breda…they all shared the need to protect him, no matter what. He was the child that all of them raised, and now maybe, since Jean understood that…he could get her to stand with him.

If he could stand himself, for some cause…he could make her do the same. He stared at her as her empty gaze fell upon the Edward's mangled body, and he forced himself to remember what he promised Mustang.

"_Roy…I swear, if the time ever comes, and I hope doesn't, but if it does…I'll be the first one putting myself in the line of fire to save you."  
_

That…he could do. Maybe they hadn't saved Edward, but they could sure as hell try to do something for their Colonel.

"Ok Riza." Her head rose, but her eyes didn't meet his as he spoke. "There has to be something we can do here." It lowered again.

"No, Jean. There's nothing."

She looked vastly exhausted, shadows under her eyes and her shoulders wilted, hands at her sides touching the tile. Sliding out from under Edward's limp arm, she reached the wall and put her head back against it. Jean countered that. He moved forward, stood straighter, spoke clearer.

"That's a great attitude. Really helpful. But seriously, if we can –"

"What do you want me to say? That everything's going to be fine? It's not…ok? Does Edward look fine to you? We haven't even heard, much less _seen_ the Colonel. We're _done_ Jean. We got ourselves caught; it's over."

Speechless, Havoc crossed the room and sat opposite her, Edward's body separating them. _Who is this woman? _This wasn't the Hawkeye that he knew; this one was frantically grasping for control, totally desperate, and somehow willing to admit defeat. But maybe she was right. They'd obviously failed Ed. For all they knew, they'd already failed Mustang too.

"Fair enough." He sighed, and still looked down. "But honestly, we can't just give up. We're here, right? And maybe Mustang is still alive, how do we know?"

"Would you just stop…" Her voice verged on irritation, but leaned more towards misery. "I'm not getting my hopes up just to see another mutilated body, I'm not. Look at him, Jean." She moved her hand softly over Ed's face. "Have you really looked at what these sick bastards did to him? He was just a kid for God's sake! A fucking kid who had his whole life ahead of him finally, and if they took that away from him, just imagine what they'd do to Mustang, ok?"

Something in her eyes told Jean that she was blatantly faking the confidence in her voice.

"Riza." She looked up, her brown eyes glassy, and searched in Jean's eyes for something that he read as comfort. "Let him go."

"What?"

He moved closer to her, careful around Edward's body, and took one of her hands in his with a gentle touch and a gentle voice. "You're terrified, and that's fine. But you're sitting here acting like this is about Edward and it's not. If you're worried about Alanah and how we're going to get out of this to be with her just so that she has parents like _you_ never had, then for God's sake, stand up and do something." He put her hand down as she looked at Ed's face, his usually bright eyes closed and his face without color, and Havoc stood up. "Let him go. We have to move forward."

"I…I can't." She held on to Ed's limp hand, her fingers clasped lightly but desperately around his. "Jean…what if we don't make it back to her. I'm so scared and I just don't want her to be alone like –"

"Riza." His voice was stern, but not harsh; confident and forceful, but not insensitive. Because he cared about this and her and everything more now than anything in his recent memory. "Please. Help me. Be the woman I know you are, and that I want Alanah to grow up to be. I'm trying here and…and I can't do this alone. I need your help for us to get out of here. So please…just…try and find that strength that you always gave me."

He wasn't quite sure what he meant by any of that, or where it came from. It was only a few days, hell, even a few _hours_ ago that he was cursing this woman, hoping his precious daughter never grew up to be like her, _the cold-hearted bitch_, and wishing that he'd never have to live with her again. But there he was, begging for her help, mercy, persistence …just for _her_.

Jean thought for a fleeting moment that it he had slipped into an alternate universe.

But there she was. And she moved slowly. She brought Edward's chilled hand up to her mouth and kissed it lightly, then placed it back down across his body. She unfolded her legs, used the wall to brace herself and stood up. And then she spoke in that voice that Jean was so happy to hear. It was calm, and sure, and comforting to him, and he wanted to follow every order it gave.

"Ok." Hawkeye took a deep breath. "Ok. We're going to get out of here."

Havoc wanted to smile, and he thought for a second that he had started too, but he heard voices behind him outside of the door and he snapped back to what it was they were actually dealing with. He didn't dare move closer to the door, but he strained to hear their conversation, hoping maybe to catch something that could give him an opportunity to…no…he wasn't kidding anyone. Jean had no idea what he was listening for. Because really, what would words do for him now?

"-_they're completely useless. So I don't care what you do to_-"

He whispered to Hawkeye over the words of that man. "You don't have another gun or a knife on you, do you?" She shook her head, eyes wide with panic.

_Yea…that would have been too simple._

So once again, Jean Havoc was left without a plan. He had no idea how many men were waiting outside that door listening to their commander's orders. He had no idea what weapons they were equipped with or what they planned to do to them. But he did know his time was running out.

He heard the door click open behind him.

For some reason, it wasn't his beautiful Alanah that flashed through his mind as he got clubbed over the head with the butt of a rifle and yelled out the way you instinctively do when you feel pain. In a flash, it was only Roy Mustang's face in full detail that he pictured, looking at him with his shadowy eyes that yesterday gazed at him in gratitude and understanding.

"_Havoc…I thought you said you had nothing to give me."_  
"_Ah come on Roy…it's just my life."_


	13. Much Too Late

Jean had thought to start swinging madly after being hit. He was down, but he could make damn sure that someone came down with him. Isn't that the way it always was? But he took too long, and now he glanced up from the tile floor, where, lying on his stomach, his arms were being tied behind his back and his wound was tearing apart under his makeshift bandages, and he could see Hawkeye being backed into a corner. That was what brought Havoc to his breaking point, and he writhed in vain trying to reach her. He was strong, of that there was no doubt, but the man detaining him was stronger, and knelt with the barrel of a gun to the back of Jean's neck.

"Don't play hero, pretty boy," the burly man grunted, and Jean didn't think that this was the time to retaliate. He heard Hawkeye's muffled protests as a man dug a pistol into her hip and covered her mouth with his left hand. She was across the room, but Jean was sure he could see tears in her eyes.

He recognized then in an epiphany of sorts, that by the time you realize that your life isn't going the way you expected, you're too busy to look over your shoulder to see how and where you went wrong. That's what had happened to Jean Havoc. He was going downhill with his breaks out, just barely avoiding a crash. Watching the world blur past him, he had no choice but to give up control, let it all happen, and try to pick up the pieces when it was over.

If there was anything _left_ to be picked up, that is.

But now here he lay, being dragged up off the ground by the oversized soldier and pushed into the corner near Edward's body. His head bounced off the broken tile wall, and he cried out in pain, which earned him a kick from a pair of large black boots. Hawkeye screamed. He couldn't even look at her.

It was out of pure embarrassment that he avoided her stare. Once again, his muscles were failing him. Just like that night in the alley with Butch and his flunkies. Just like the night that got him into this position with Riza to begin with.

_I'm too fucking weak._

He spat out blood after one more kick to the midsection. She was screeching, "Stop it! You _bastard!_" but the man didn't listen. The other soldier, which Havoc recognized through squinted, tearing eyes as Rune, recovered her mouth and pushed his weight up against her.

"Shut up bitch," he snarled at Riza, and her eyes narrowed. "Ouch!" The man yelped in pain; she had actually _bitten_ his left hand. "Fucking cunt!" He raised his arm and, in what seemed like slow-motion to Jean, backhanded her across the face. Instinctively, she reached up to her cheek, but Rune intercepted her arm and used it to pull her away from the wall and thrust her towards Havoc, who lay curled in the fetal position in the corner opposite her, absorbing kick after kick to his chest and stomach.

Riza tripped over Jean's foot, causing her momentum to carry her right into the wall, where she slumped down behind Jean. She curled up against his body, dwarfed by his broad shoulders. Havoc coughed again, trying to try to sit up despite being unable to use his arms which were still bound behind his back. All he wanted was to block her from harm. All he wanted was to keep them away from her.

"Stay down, stupid fuck," the bigger man growled, and just for good measure he kicked Jean one more time, this time in the chin, causing the blonde's head to drop down and ricochet one more time off the tile. Neither he nor Riza even had the strength to scream anymore; the woman just wrapped her arms around him tightly and silently sobbed. "Pollit," the man called, "you wanna do this one?"

A shorter, skinnier man stood near the door, a rifle in hand which seemed all too large for someone his size. He had a shaved head and bright, clear eyes that Jean could see from across the room weren't the same as those of the men cornering him and Riza. This man, Pollit he was called, was different.

"Hey, I _said_ do you want this one?" The larger man (which Havoc assumed was Ribald just by process of elimination) was growing more irritated now, and he turned around, casting a sharp look.

"Ye…Yea," Pollit stuttered. "Yea, I got this."

Jean tried to figure out why he was so different from the other soldiers in the room, and he saw then that it was in his eyes, which were intently fixed on his gun. Rune's had a conniving look, the same one he always remembered Brash and Hardy having. He was that guy you knew you would never trust with a secret, the guy you never wanted next to you on the battlefield because if need be, you'd only become a human shield for his far more precious life. Ribald's eyes were deep set and dark, an abyss of shadows and secrets that Havoc supposed for a second might have been better than what Rune's were; at least with Ribald you knew you didn't like him, you just weren't sure exactly why. But Pollit…his weren't the same.

The smaller man made his way to the corner and Ribald got one more kick in, knocking his big boot into Jean's already swelling jaw, before turning his back and meeting Rune by the door.

And then there was a scream. A deep, throaty, yell that Jean couldn't place right away…but after a moment's thought and a small gasp from Riza, he knew. He knew it like so quickly then that it seemed he'd always known it, and he realized it was the cry of Roy Mustang. Since entering the building, the only noise had been caused by the people in this room, and even though they wanted to stay positive, even Jean and Riza had a hard time believing Mustang was anywhere nearby. But now…now they knew he was, and still didn't know what to do.

A tense glare was exchanged between Rune and Ribald that looked to Jean as though they didn't expect that noise either. "Let's go check if the boss is alright," Ribald grunted. Rune nodded silently and cocked his gun. "Pollit…don't screw this up."

Pollit's eyes left the rifle for a moment to glance quickly at the men leaving, and he only stammered, "Ye…yea…" in a quiet murmur.

The door didn't close behind the men, and despite his state, Jean knew he had to act now. His mind raced, and he could feel Riza pulling him closer to her, knowing what was coming as Pollit walked closer to them. She locked her arms around his chest and they worked together so he was propped against her, nearly blocking her entire body. Then her hands came back behind him, her deft fingers began discreetly tugging at the rope binding Havoc's wrists.

"P…Pollit, was it?" Jean sputtered through a blood filled mouth, doing his best not to give away Riza's actions behind him. The man nodded slowly. "My name…is Jean Havoc. This is Riza. We've got a daughter waiting for us at home, her name's Alanah, cute little thing." There was another more desperate shout and a definite ruckus from somewhere else that was growing more intense. Havoc's eyes widened, flashed towards the door, and he began to panic even more. "Look, this kid right here is Major Edward Elric…he's only 21. And that man that just screamed is Colonel Roy Mustang. We've got lives, and so do you, and if you'll just let us–"

"Don't lecture me about life," Pollit said flatly as he pulled the butt of his rifle to his shoulder, pointed the barrel directly at Havoc's chest. He stared intently at the two of them then, pouring his resentment and contempt into their faces. His voice was stern, but his hands were shaking. "I don't care, Jean Havoc. I have a job to do. You have to understand that."

And suddenly there was no more screaming from down the hall, no more commotion. Jean's stomach dropped. There was hope, for a second there. And now there was only this man's gun, and his clear eyes that Jean though were maybe a sign of his innocence…only on a closer look he realized they were neither pure _nor_ the blue tint they appeared to be from across the room. They were a glossy almost transparent silver, and they were empty inside. Jean tried to place what they reminded him of – they were peering straight through him almost – totally unfitting of Pollit's daunted, boyish face. They were old and weary and so ready to give up because they never really wanted to be where they were anyway.

But what did it matter. It was undoubtedly the last thing he'd see.

"I do, Pollit, I do," Jean stumbled, trying to think of anything to stall. He could feel Riza's progress; the ropes were almost off. "But just think about-"

"Shut up."

It was entirely possible that there was a clever way to escape from that corner, but Havoc just couldn't find it. If he didn't move quickly enough, he'd get shot straight away, and given that he was already hurt, those odds weren't in his favor. If he moved fast enough to get out of the way of the shot, Riza would just die instead. He ran it over and over in his head and cursed himself for not being smart enough to figure out exactly how to save the day this time around.

So he did was he was told. He closed his mouth, though it hurt to do so, and he gave up.

Behind his back he reached for Riza's hands which had stopped fiddling with the ropes she'd finally gotten loose. She said nothing, but she didn't have to. He'd been listening to her breathing…perception, after all, was key for Jean. The little things, Pollit's eyes, the noise from the hall, Riza's motion behind him…they were the last things he'd know, so he paid attention carefully. She'd been holding her breath, probably waiting for something, but when he grabbed her hands as tight as he did…she realized too that it was over.

There was something beautiful, he figured, about dying for a noble cause, and dying with the person you loved. He only wished he'd done more good in his life, then maybe his death would mean something.

Riza was cowering behind him, hands intertwined tightly in his, forehead buried in his shoulder, and whispering to herself and maybe to him too, "This isn't the end, this isn't the end, this isn't…"

But it was. And despite the fact that he'd told himself earlier that he wanted to keep his eyes open when he died, Jean closed his eyes as tight as he could, and with what sounded to him as a deafening explosion of gunfire, everything went white.

_---x---_

Death, Havoc assumed, would be cold and dark.

Maybe you'd feel like you were falling for a bit, unsure of how long you'd fallen or how far you had left to go, but you'd find the bottom eventually. Or perhaps there would be a clear hall, a stairway as some people said, and everyone would know the path when they got there. It would be an adventure, possibly, and he'd have to take a boat and cross a river and climb a mountain but he'd inevitably get to where he was supposed to be. Because it was death. And it was certain. And so of course he'd know the right way.

But he was hot. Inescapably warm, and even through his tightly closed eyes the room just _felt_ bright.

He found it odd, that even in death he could feel Riza's hands squeezing his harder than they should be able to. And even in death he could hear her staggered breathing, taste the blood in his mouth, smell…smell a strange…familiar…_burning?_

_Well this isn't right at all_, he thought. But it wasn't curiosity that made him open his eyes so quickly, despite being apprehensive about what would await him. It was hope.

And for one of the few times in Jean Havoc's life, he wasn't let down.

Past the charred, smoldering body at Jean's feet now in a crumpled heap, beyond the rifle that had fallen to the ground and inadvertently fired into the wall, Roy Mustang stood, a desperate man with his arm still outstretched to a familiar gloved hand.

This Mustang was different, there was no poise and grace and composure, only exasperation and uneasiness. That gloved had that was usually so steady was shaking, badly at that. His normally thin eyes were wider than Jean ever recalled seeing them, and there were no tears to be found but they looked like the eyes of a man who'd just committed a crime he didn't plan, who didn't know exactly what he'd just done, just knew that he'd acted on impulse. He was shirtless, and Jean could see his chest heaving up and down quickly, taking shallow breaths that had more than a hint of a wheeze to them. And before Havoc could take notice of the fact that Mustang was barefoot and the uniform pants he had on had no belt, were torn, and had blood covering them, the Colonel collapsed in front of him.

His hands free now, Jean lunged forward to catch him as Mustang put his arm down, stabilizing himself as his knee hit the ground. "Roy!" Jean yelled, as Riza simultaneously screamed, "Colonel!"

Havoc scrambled forward, injured or not, and scooped Mustang up onto his lap and into his arm. "Roy, are you ok?" The blonde looked desperately over Roy's face, which was surprisingly not bloodied, but weary; the darker man was tightening the muscles of his forehead like he was in pain and his eyes were struggling to stay open.

"I made it…" he said quietly, almost like a thought that made its way out of his mouth without his permission.

Not knowing what he should say, or how to say what he knew he was supposed to, Jean said lowly, "Yea… you made it." He lightly brushed away the hair that was matted to Roy's face and smiled jadedly.

"Where…is Edward…" Roy mustered out, in a voice that was still scratchy, matching the raspiness of his breaths. Jean looked away quickly to Riza, who had moved towards Roy, but now took a step back to where Ed's body lay. She turned her attention to the younger man as Jean returned his to Mustang.

"He…he's here, don't worry. We have to get you out of here, Roy, you're hurt bad. We gotta get you to a hospital." Jean knew they had to move quickly. After all, he didn't know how Roy had escaped_. Has he killed everyone? Are there more soldiers out there? How are we going to get out of the building with two incapacitated grown men in tow?_ He began to lift Roy up a bit, try to get him into a sitting position, but Mustang resisted his movements.

"Take Edward…take him first." Mustang's shadowed eyes looked up into Jean's crystal blue ones with concern. With the older man in his arms, beaten and battered and bruised, Jean had no idea how to react, he only stared at his superior, dumbfounded. "Leave me here…and get him to the building at Port and Second." Roy was still struggling to speak, but forcefully keeping himself weighed down enough so Havoc couldn't move him easily.

Out of the corner of his eye Jean saw Riza's head snap in their direction. "Sir," she spoke firmly, "I'm not entirely sure that that is the most qualified place to bring either you or Major Elric."

"It's an order," Roy winced, and his arm came down to reach for his side. Havoc immediately looked to see the cause of the problem. Blood was flowing fairly steadily from the Colonel's side; there was a deep gash running along the right side of his ribs.

"Roy, no, we have to bring you with. We'll get both of you out–"

"Lieutenant, take Fullmetal to that building now. This is not the time for negotiation." He squirmed now to get out of Havoc's grasp, cautiously sitting up and propping himself upon one arm. "Make sure he is attended to properly; I'll be fine. I can cauterize my own wounds." Jean glanced at the blood that Mustang was tenderly brushing away with his ungloved hand, trying to figure out what Roy meant, how he'd take care of his own wounds...and then it dawned on him. The glove. The flame. He wasn't going to let Roy do that. He'd always listened to what Roy said, and especially in this situation where Jean was openly scared and quite plainly clueless, he knew he really should listen to Mustang.

But he never _was_ one to do what he should.

In a swift motion, Jean got to his feet, dragging an unwilling Mustang with him with a yelp.

"Can you stand on your own?" he asked Mustang, as he supported the smaller man by wrapping his own arm around Roy's waist, pulling the leaner body against his own muscled one, yet still careful around the open wounds.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Jean?" Roy spat, and he struggled to push himself away from Havoc, eventually setting himself free, albeit shakily.

"I'll take that as a yes. Riza," he said as he turned to where she still stood, seemingly awaiting orders. "Can you come walk with the Colonel? He's obviously not gonna take my help so –"

"Dammit Jean just get Edward out of here, I'll be fine by myself!" Mustang's voice rose, but he was silenced by Riza, who had crossed to him and taken his arm over her shoulder just in time, as the man wavered slightly after expelling such energy so quickly.

"Sir, please try to cooperate. This is for your own good." Her tone was flat, and Jean laughed to himself as he crouched near Ed, because it was the same tone she got when scolding Roy at the office. Being the consummate professional, she handled the situation and moved it in her favor. Mustang was muttering obscenities to himself, but he was standing with her, and they were waiting for Jean.

With care, he managed his arms under Edward's limp body. The wound on his shoulder was burning, but at the sight of the young man's wounds and the makeshift bandages covering a few of them, Riza's jacket still spread across his waist, Jean's pain seemed to disappear. What mattered was getting everyone out of here, and getting Ed and Roy help as soon as possible. His arm could wait, at least he was alive.

He cared more than he probably should have. _Does this hurt?_ Jean subconsciously asked Edward. _Am I doing ok?_ Ed still wasn't moving, yet Jean treated him as though he was a wounded soldier on the battlefield, and it was his duty to make sure that soldier got medical attention at all costs.

_Leave no man behind._

Jean hooked his right arm under Ed's knees, his left arm across his back, gripping the boy's left arm, and he stood up a bit unevenly, but he steadied himself quickly. It was odd how deceivingly heavy Ed was, even without his automail arm. _Maybe_, Jean thought, _I'm still just thinking of him as the little squirt he used to be_. Shaking his head back to the get the hair out of his eyes, he turned around to face Riza and Roy. It occurred to him then, a bit too late, that up until that point Roy hadn't actually seen Edward's condition.

What color was left in Mustang's face disappeared completely, he seemed to collapse a bit as Riza staggered under his weight, trying to still hold him up. "Sir, are you ok?" she asked kindly, but Roy couldn't answer. He was stammering incoherently, and all Jean could catch was "No," over and over again. He thought he heard the man utter, "I failed you," but that wasn't something he wanted to imagine Mustang saying, so he dismissed it immediately and tried to move along. He still didn't know how much time they had, after all.

"He's gonna be fine Roy, we just gotta get out of here." Jean's voice seemed confident, but the Colonel looked up into his eyes, and for a second the blonde man thought _he_ was going to collapse too. In all their years of knowing each other, Jean never thought the day would come when he would see tears in Roy Mustang's eyes.

But here they were.

And if he hadn't been holding Edward in his arms, Havoc may have taken a risk and held Mustang instead. Because no one should feel like that, he realized. Especially not someone as strong as Roy. But he couldn't change what had been done, he knew that. So he did what the voice in his head had told him to do earlier, the voice that sounded so strikingly similar to the small, blonde alchemist he held. _Move forward_.

"Roy," Jean said assertively, "Ed is going to be fine. Now let's get out of here, so we can find someone to take care of him." Roy nodded sheepishly and turned his head away, and Riza looked at Jean then, her own tears becoming more noticeable. Somehow he had run out of things to say again. So he just said, "Alright. Let's go."

They made their way slowly out the door and down the hall, passing an open door on their right that Jean realized was one that he hadn't checked on his way into the building. With a quick glance inside, he saw one, two, three bodies…but he just kept walking. If only he'd checked that room on his way in, maybe he'd have saved Roy his injuries, maybe they'd have been able to get to Ed quicker, maybe…what did it matter. He didn't. And now this was what he had to deal with.

He looked ahead at Roy, who limped along with his weight partly against Riza, seemingly stuck in between accepting her help and stubbornly forcing himself to walk alone despite the pain. Jean noticed that Roy was less limping and more staggering, not favoring either leg because both needed to be favored. It wasn't fair. Meanwhile Riza withstood the pressure of Roy's much larger body leaning on hers, even encouraging him at every step to use her for more support, reassuring him she could handle the force.

When they reached it, the front door was still blocked with the bodies of Brash and Hardy, which Jean instinctively felt guilty about leaving there but his priorities had to be his Colonel and the boy in his arms. Riza left Roy to steady himself on the doorframe as she nimbly hopped over the two bodies, then extended her arm to him for support as he reluctantly stepped over them, but not before glancing down at their faces. "I never did like those two anyway," he'd mumbled. Jean probably could have pulled an 'I told you so' with Riza just then, for Mustang immediately recognized the two soldiers as well…but maybe he'd save that for later.

She was leading Roy down the stairs, slowly and painfully, and Jean stepped over the bodies carefully. None of them spoke. What was there to say? They reached the car and Mustang went to the back seat and opened the door.

"Sir, are you sure you wouldn't like to sit in the front seat? There's more leg room, and I'm sure with your condition…"

Jean approached the opened back door and started to put Edward inside as Riza spoke. He hadn't noticed that the action led Riza to trail off. Standing up, he said, "Alright, everybody in." But there was no response. Riza stared at Roy, and Roy, leaning himself up against the door for support, stared at Edward. Jean just stared. "What?"

"I'll sit in back," Roy asserted. Riza immediately complied. Jean still didn't get what was going on, but in all honesty, it didn't matter to him. All he wanted was to get the hell out of there. Roy slid into the back seat as Jean and Riza made themselves comfortable in the front. Adjusting his mirror, Havoc caught the look on Roy's face. He had pulled Ed's head up onto his lap, and stroked the blonde's blood-stained hair back from his pale face. His own face seemed gaunt and light itself, and those tears were still there. Jean threw the shifter into drive.

"Port and Second you said, right?" he glanced up into the mirror, and Roy looked up at the question tiredly.

"Yea, that's right."

And they were on their way.

The sun was up now, it was nearing 8am, and as the car drove down the street, behind them the once again abandoned structure got further in the distance and the familiar buildings of downtown Central got closer. He wasn't sure why, but Jean took a quick look again into the mirror, not at Roy this time but at that building, and he did a double take. It could have been his eyes playing tricks on him. And he hoped it was.

Because there was a thin figure with unmistakable long, spiked out hair perched atop the structure.

But when he whipped his head around to look, it was gone. He turned back to the road. _A trick_, he'd reassured himself. _I'm just imagining things_. There'd be no reason for a homunculus to be nearby. His foot pressed harder into the gas pedal.

"What's wrong?" Riza quietly asked.

"Nothing," Havoc replied as he shook his head. "Just thought I saw something. It's fine." He reached his hand over to hers, and looked over to see her lips in a hint of a smile. _It's fine_.

In the backseat, Roy was falling asleep with his hand on Ed's chest, waiting for a heartbeat that wasn't coming.


	14. Through and Back

They arrived at Port and Second in less time than they should have, and that had something to do with both the speed of Jean's driving and the lack of traffic still so early in the morning. Roy was sound asleep in the back seat, Riza was sitting at attention. Jean was driving slower now, peering out the window and squinting his eyes as he mumbled, "Ok…Port and Second…but none of these look like anywhere…"

"The alley on your left," Riza said quietly. "Pull in there, then turn into the garage." Havoc had no clue where they were going, or more importantly why Riza knew exactly how to get there. So he just followed the instructions. The garage was dark, as he half expected, and before he could even put the car in park Riza had flung open the door, hopped out, and was walking briskly to the wall nearest Havoc.

She reached up to a gray box so high she had to go onto her toes, but came down with a key in hand. Where Jean hadn't even noticed, there was another small black box about waist level with a lock on it, which Riza placed the key in, turned it quickly, and opened the cover. She bent down slightly, laid her finger on a button, and waited. In a few seconds, a voice loud enough to hear from the car, but still quieter than Jean was expecting from a speaker, said, "Alpha Consultation Services, can I help you?"

Riza put her face closer to the box.

"Yes, I have an appointment for Rose Henry. I'm a bit late but I rushed to get here."

"Of course, Ms. Henry, the door is open, come up immediately with your paperwork." Riza closed the small box, replaced the key, and swung around to face Havoc, who was still sitting open-mouthed in the front seat of the car.

"Jean, let's go." He had no idea what was going on. But as usual, he did what he was told anyway.

It wasn't that he didn't feel bad about it a moment afterwards, but he went to Edward's door first. He quickly swung it open and leaned inside, ducking under the frame and putting his arms gently around the man's smaller body. Riza had entered a door to the building while he pulled Ed out of the car and held him close to his chest as he kicked the door closed. Jean propped Ed up on his right shoulder, trying to figure out how he could get the man inside and not leave Roy out in the car alone.

Almost on cue, Riza reappeared with a crude wheelchair. "I'll take Edward into the elevator; get Mustang out of the car." She spoke quickly and quietly, and Jean just nodded.

After placing Fullmetal down gently into the chair, careful not to let his feet drag on the ground, or his arm slide off his lap, Jean went to Roy's side of the car, opened the door, and lightly nudged the man's shoulder. "Roy," he whispered, "Hey, Roy," but there was no response. Mustang's chest was rising and falling, just barely, but it was and that was enough for Jean. He grabbed hold of Roy's arm and pulled the smaller man out of the car, swiftly hoisting Mustang up over his shoulder and closing the door. Riza was waiting just through the entrance to the building.

When he followed her past the rusted brown door, he saw Riza holding the elevator for them. As he got inside, he noticed a line of equally crude wheelchairs along the wall. The doors slid shut in front of him.

"Hey uh, Riza?" He turned to face her, but she didn't falter from her gaze at the light moving from number to number, signaling how close they were to their destination that Jean still didn't know about. "What is this place?"

The light stopped on 4, a bell dinged, and the doors slid open. She looked at him then as he stared into the empty hallway before them.

"It's a hospital."

She walked forward quickly, pushing the wheelchair with Ed propped up in it ahead of her, and Jean followed closely afterwards, shifting Roy's weight around over his shoulder.

"This doesn't look much like a hospital to me…what was that I heard about consultation? I just don't see why we can't just go to Central-" It didn't matter how hard he tried, he just didn't understand. Nothing was making sense, and Riza was too busy getting them to where only she knew where they were going to clue Jean in on anything.

She turned to face him when they stood in front of a set of double doors and said simply, "Wait here" as she left Ed in the chair right outside the doors and went in. So he did. Because it wasn't like he had any idea where else to go.

Roy's weight was beginning to really take a toll on Jean's shoulder and back; his wound was still stinging from the gunshot, which until then he'd forgotten about entirely. He thought to put Roy down, find another wheelchair or a stretcher or a ledge for Ishbal's sake, and get all 180 pounds of that alchemist off him. Only there were none of those things to be found. Jean took a hard look both ways down the hallway, but there was nothing. _Nice fucking hospital here,_ was all he could think.

And just as he was thinking about putting Mustang on the floor for a while to go look for something better to use, the frenzy started. He swung his head around, and out of those double doors came three, six, seven people in hospital scrubs or lab coats, all clean and professional looking – the exact opposite of the building they stood in. Two of them were pushing a stretcher towards Havoc, who instinctively took a step back, but then Riza exited the doors, a dogged look on her face and caught his eyes. She must have sensed the fear he felt, because her expression lightened and she gave a slight nod. Sure, at the time he didn't know exactly what that was supposed to mean, but he chose to take it as a reassuring gesture and turned his attention. A shorter, darker, spiky-haired man who he assumed to be a doctor stood in front of him, glasses pushed up to his wide brown eyes.

"Sir, the Colonel please. On the stretcher if you would."

Jean readjusted his grip on Mustang as he stammered, "Uh…yea…yea here." As gently as he could, he laid Roy down on the white sheets covering the rough bedding.

And then before he knew it, he and Riza were left alone in the hall, because they'd wheeled Roy's gurney away, pushed Ed's chair down the hall and through a set of doors, and the silence returned again. So he just looked down at her.

"You alright?"

She nodded

"We need to get your shoulder taken care of. It needs to be cleaned, and you'll most likely need-"

"Yea I know."

She didn't protest to being interrupted; in fact, she just closed her mouth, but kept her head up and stared down the hall.

So there they stood, heads straight and shoulders sagging, dispirited and dejected. Neither of them said they were terrified for their friends, and neither one said how they didn't know what to do. Because they both understood it without saying anything. And Jean knew that there was nothing certain to say anyway, so he didn't bother.

The fact was, Edward was almost certainly dead. And Roy was almost unquestionably critically wounded. But that doubt was there. That shred of hope that this was all simply not happening. Of course even more there was the realization that seeing Roy Mustang rolled away on a stretcher, and Edward Elric taken away in a wheelchair…that could be the last time he saw either of them. For forever.

A small, fiery nurse poked her head out of a door. "Lieutenant Havoc, could you step in here please? We can get you cleaned up."

Riza looked up at Jean as he nodded sheepishly. "Yes ma'am," he mumbled, but he didn't quite move forward until Riza wrapped her hand into his and took the first step forward.

For some reason, no matter how cliché it seemed, Jean had the hardest time taking that first step. It might have had something to do with the fact that moving forward inevitably meant leaving something behind, literally and figuratively. The second he left that spot, it was like he was admitting that this was all for real. He couldn't take it back, just as he couldn't take anything in his past back, just as he couldn't return to that morning and make this whole thing just not happen. So regardless of what he wanted, or what anyone wanted, all of their lives had inevitably changed. For good.

But there they were, powerless and hopeless, taking that step and accepting the consequences of all that had happened, for better or for worse. The doctors had taken Roy and Edward away, and Jean couldn't control that that first step seemed to be the beginning of forever.

_--x—_

_I 'm finally happy, Jean._

_--x--_

Riza waited outside the door of Jean's room, leaning up against the wall, with her arms crossed and her head down. The hall was silent, and though she strained to hear anything, there was no sign of commotion from any room. It was unsettling. She slid her back down the wall, eventually wilting down onto the cold tile.

She could deal with the wounds her peers were suffering, and hell, she could even deal with the possibility of death, because that was nothing out of the ordinary for a soldier. But now…now it seemed everything was gone. And whatever was left would always be different.

Somewhere in the file cabinet of her mind, she searched for the bit of training that was going to get her through this. To her own dismay, she came up empty.

There was nothing that could console her, but at the same time she couldn't break down. Partly because this was neither the time nor the place – not with Jean still being tended to, the Colonel in critical condition, and Fullmetal presumed to be dead – but mostly because Riza didn't know _how_ to break down. It was simply something that never occurred to her.

The door from Havoc's room opened far sooner than she imagined it would, and the lanky blonde man stepped out, his right hand pawing at the mound of bandaging that was evident under his new white shirt. The same young, thin, red-haired nurse followed him, clipboard in hand.

"Just be careful with the dressing, Lieutenant," she said quietly. "Your stitches could still pull out if you're too hard on it, but it's not too bad. It should heal quickly." She smiled at him slightly, despite the blank stare she was getting in return, and then turned towards Hawkeye. "The waiting room is empty, Riza. You two are welcome to wait down there – it's unlikely we'll see anyone else today. So help yourself to everything, as usual, and we'll keep you updated."

Riza pulled herself up off the ground and walked toward them.

"Thank you Kelley." She forced a smile and put her hand out to the other woman's. "I appreciate this."

The nurse tilted her head and shook it slightly.

"It's what we're here for. We're glad to help." Her cheeks flushed a bit. "Now go, you two, rest for a while. You both look like you need it. I'll be up at the desk, and Riza, feel free to use the back room to clean up. You know where everything's at." And then she walked smartly back towards where they had entered.

When Riza finally turned to look Jean in his eyes, she was greeted with drooping, bewildered, saddened blue crystals, glazed over and watery and unlike anything she felt familiar with. And there was silence between them that she didn't want to break. With a nod of her head and by taking his arm, she knew she didn't have to say anything.

_--x--_

_You're making this a lot harder than it should be._

_--x--_

Havoc was never the most patient person in his everyday life. On a mission, he could stakeout a position for days on end and never complain, but in a situation like this he couldn't handle not knowing what was happening. So he paced. Incessantly.

When Riza returned from cleaning up and entered the waiting room, his eyes jumped to her immediately and he started speaking before he realized it.

"Do they know anything more?" he asked urgently, in a quick, bright voice with wide eyes.

She took her hand down from her wet hair that was already neatly pulled back and cocked her head.

"Jean, first of all, I just got out of the shower, so how would I know? And second, it's only been ten minutes." She pushed past him and moved to the small refrigerator he'd neglected to acknowledge. "Just let them do their jobs," she mumbled.

He stood there, an incredulous look on his face as she pulled two bottles of water out of the refrigerator and tossed one at him. He caught it without looking.

"What do you mean, 'Let them do their jobs'??? I don't even know who _they_ are!!" He waved his hands wildly, or as wildly as he could with a bottle in one hand and a wrapped up shoulder. "Are they even qualified to be doing this type of work?? I want to see some certificates! Or something!"

Riza sat down quietly, and Jean could see a slight smirk on her face, which of course only increased the intensity of his yelling. "I don't think this is very funny Riza! We've got lives at stake here! Two very important ones at that! And we should be at Central Hospital, not here in this rundown shithole with two-bit doctors doing who knows what! For all I know these guys have never even been trained! They could be making things worse!!"

Her eyes turned up to him as she twisted off the cap of her water bottle. It was that look he'd seen far too often that usually only led to him being proven wrong. He could feel his face was flushed, and his heart was still racing but he was pretty sure that it hadn't slowed down since he was at his apartment anyway. With his chest heaving from his outburst, he plopped down into the chair opposite Riza. She raised her eyebrows.

"Are you through?"

"Yea…" he mumbled reluctantly as he put his head down.

"Thank you." She said calmly. The bottle pressed up against her lips for a moment as she took a drink of water, and then set it down on the end table next to her. Her hands came back to rest across her legs, folded neat and tense. "Ok. There are very few people that know of this place, so before I even go any further it's important that you realize that fact. Breaking this secrecy will ruin the good that these people do for us, ok?"

He just nodded, because he didn't know what else to do.

"Every single time the Colonel has gone out on a mission, sent of his own free will, off the record or not, he's risked his life; you know that."

Jean had flashes of images he didn't want to remember. Torn uniforms, Mustang's blood, open wounds covering uncharacteristically pale skin. If Roy had been able to hear Jean's thoughts, he'd have probably said something about knowing the duties of a soldier, or sacrificing for the greater good, as he'd said so often each time he was wounded…but Havoc never really believed he meant that. He always figured Roy was just as worried about his injuries as everyone else was, only as their leader he felt like he couldn't show it. Someone had to be the strong one all the time.

"Every single time he's been injured, he's never gone to Central." Riza idly brushed dust off her pants, speaking in a tone that hid nothing, something Jean couldn't say he was used to.

_Well yea, he couldn't let anyone else see him in a position of weakness, _ he said to himself, assuming he had this one figured out.

"He's always come here because it's safe," Hawkeye continued, startling Jean a bit, forcing him to reconsider his previous theory.

"Safe…safe from what?" Havoc asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

She shrugged.

"Everything. From the enemies he'd narrowly escaped from, and from the enemies he doesn't even know. Being at Central Hospital stuck in a room when you're someone as well known and as recognizable as Mustang…it's just not smart. Makes you an easy target." Riza stood up and walked to the door, poked her head out and checked down the hall. "The same goes for Edward. Mustang has never had to worry about this stuff all that much, but when he started becoming more active in Fullmetal's pursuit of the stone, he put himself in increasingly dangerous positions…positions where if caught by the higher-ups, whether in action or after the fact, he would never be forgiven."

Havoc clenched his fist tighter around the bottle of water that still sat unopened. "So…he had to come here, to these unqualified people, just because he didn't want anyone to know about the stone?"

She crossed back across the room, paced slightly.

"Well, sort of. The people here _are _qualified; they've been trained just as a staff anywhere else, only they made a choice to work here for free…for whatever reason. I don't know how or why this place was started, or who founded it…but I know that all of the nurses and doctors you've seen are volunteer." She stopped pacing, brushed off her shirt this time, and put her hands on her hips, not looking at Havoc. "They've done a lot of good. That's all I know. And there have been too many times since Roy and Edward have been working together that these men and women have saved the two of them from…" Her eyes locked with his when she trailed off. "They do good work, that's all."

"Well, forgive me for asking this," Havoc said flatly, "but then why did you tell Mustang that this wasn't the most qualified place to bring Ed?"

Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling, she took a deep breath and held it for a moment.

"Just…just because…" She exhaled. "It's never been this bad. No matter what trouble they got into in their years of work on the stone…they were always able to protect each other enough to, at the very least, walk on their own power. I trust the staff here, I just…" Her eyes closed. "I'm just scared that even the best doctors won't be able to save Edward right now."

Jean's chest felt like it might cave in, or perhaps it already had. He took a swig from the bottle, wishing that something a bit _stronger_ than water would meet his lips.

"Well…" His hands fidgeted, twisted at the cap. "Well the best they can do is all we can hope for right now. Whatever the results…at least we tried, right?"

Riza walked slowly back to the chair she rested in earlier without responding to Jean. Scared that he'd said the wrong thing, Havoc ran things over and over in his head. _At least we tried? Shit, trying does nothing. I hate being out of control. I feel like there's something I should be-_

"Yea," Riza interrupted his thoughts with a meek voice. "Yea, there's really nothing else we can do right now anyway. This is the best place for him…them." Her eyes were watery, and she batted her hair away from in front of her face. "I don't know what went on today…but I have the sinking feeling this isn't just an average assassination attempt. This had to be some kind of…inside job or something, I don't know. So here is definitely where they should be, qualified or not."

_Assassination?? Inside job??_ Until then, the only theory Havoc had come up with was just your average Homunculi gone crazy…

A strong drink suddenly seemed quite appealing.

There was a knock at the open door, and Jean turned around when Riza's head looked up. Kelley stood just inside the room, clipboard in hand and a look on her face that was less than comforting.

"Sorry to interrupt guys…I just spoke to Doctor Harmon, who's heading up Colonel Mustang's treatment." Havoc stood up quickly and walked to her. "They've stabilized his vitals, so I thought I'd come and tell you. For now he's still sleeping, not unconscious, so he's been upgraded to serious but stable condition." His shoulders relaxed a bit at that news, and Riza joined him at his right side. "They've just begun to run some tests now."

"Tests? Tests on what?" he asked.

Kelley lifted her shoulders slightly.

"They're evidence of an abnormal substance in the Colonel's blood; they're assuming for the time being that it's that chemical that's responsible for his low heart rate, and why he's continuing in this deep sleep despite attempts to wake him. I wish I had more information, but other than the evident bullet and stab wounds, they don't know much for sure right now."

She must have seen the color that Jean felt drain out of his face, because her face softened and she said, "Harmon said you're more than welcome into the Colonel's room…there's no harm in that. But of course if you're more comfortable here –"

"I'll go," Jean sputtered out quickly. Riza looked up at him. "Well…I mean…maybe someone sitting with him will help him wake up, I don' t know."

Kelley gave an understanding nod.

"That's fine, Lieutenant. Now, about Major Elric…" Havoc's whole body tensed, and next to him Riza got just that much closer. "I…" She looked down at her clipboard. "Well Doctor Pase is treating him…I'm afraid I'm going to have to let him explain everything to you." Her frail hands fiddled nervously with the pen she held between her fingers. "He'll be by shortly if you'd like to wait around here, and then you're welcome to the Colonel's room."

"Of course," Riza said sweetly. "We'll wait here for him, thank you Kelley."

The nurse left with a slight bow and scurried back to the front desk. Riza looked at Jean.

"Well…we'll see what Doctor Pase has to say I guess then. Then you can go check on the Colonel. I'll…" She seemed to struggle a bit with her words. "I'll just wait here. Until we know more."

Jean nodded silently while he tried to process everything Kelley had said. It was far too much to handle all at once, and the two of them stood there, stunned, and they did nothing. Havoc's mind raced. It bounced from worry of what the doctor would say about Edward, to what Mustang would look like when he got to his room, and then back…to Envy on top of that building, and who was behind all this anyway…and then he wondered what would happen with Riza, and if Alanah was ok…and suddenly he realized they'd gotten involved in something they couldn't get out of, and it hadn't set in until that exact moment. His hands started to shake, and he dug in his pocket for the cigarettes he realized he left in the car.

"Here," Riza said softly, pulling a white stick from her pocket and nudging Jean with it. "I grabbed one before we got out of the car…figured you'd want it." He took the cigarette from her, but she didn't look up at him. "Just…go into the garage to smoke it, and make sure no one sees you, ok?"

She sighed quietly, and Havoc couldn't help it when he took her and pulled her face to his chest. Her arms wrapped around his body.

"Riza…" he said, so quiet it was nearly a whisper. "I'm so sorry…"

She shivered.

"Don't…you don't have to say anything…"

Her hands fisted into his shirt.

"I do, I have to fix this." He pushed her away from him just enough so he could tilt her chin up, so he could look her in her big brown eyes, still glossed over with premature tears. "This isn't the time, and I know that. But I've done so much that I wish I could take back, and I swear, I'm going to make it up to you. And to Alanah."

Jean kept speaking and he didn't know why, but something inside him told him that if he didn't get everything out now, he was never going to. And when all this was over, they would go right back to where they were before this day…and that was something he refused to let happen.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," he said as he shook his head, "but we're going to get through this. I said we were going to get out of that building, and we did. And now no matter what happens, we're going to make it through this because we don't have any other choice."

There was a determination and a strength in his voice that made Riza just nod, and there was something between them that Jean decided he really missed feeling.

"We're stuck with the decisions we've made with and for ourselves, and everyone else, and each other," she said with a nod. There was such strength in her voice that if Jean didn't know better, he would have thought was she about to smile.

"It's for better or for worse, or something like that right?" He lifted his eyebrows and cocked a smirk she swore he'd learned straight from Mustang himself.

"Something like that," Riza mumbled, and she reached up to kiss him.

She might have made it there too, but once again there was a knock on the door. A man about as tall as Havoc, though much thinner stood just outside. He had a cap over his hair, but Jean could see the color matched his own when the doctor pulled his mask down from his mouth and revealed a blonde goatee. He put out his hand towards Havoc.

"Lieutenant Jean Havoc, correct?"

Havoc was torn for a moment between saluting and shaking hands, but he took the doctor's palm in his own and squeezed.

"Yes, sir, just Havoc is fine."

"Havoc then, it's nice to finally meet you, though I wish it could be under other circumstances." His voice was low but pleasant to hear, and Jean figured that had a lot to do with always having to deliver bad news – somehow a nice voice makes it not easy, but a little less hard. "Your reputation precedes you, but I suppose it's been exaggerated since this is the first you've been to our little place here." He tried to smile a little. Havoc acknowledged the attempt at humor by offering a slight smirk. The doctor's eyes shifted to Hawkeye, and he reached out for her hand.

"Riza, you've taken care of yourself, as usual?"

She matched his half-smile.

"I'm alright, Dean, you know I'm never the one to worry about."

_ First name basis, eh, _Jean questioned. _They must have been here a lot… _And that worried him. Because in all this time he thought he'd been part of their work, part of the team, and here he was, totally clueless about all of this stuff that had taken place who knows how long ago. And he couldn't even be mad…because with the way he had been acting, he realized he didn't deserve to be included anyway…

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Dean.

"Well introductions taken care of, let's talk about Edward."

Jean swallowed hard, and if he wasn't mistaken, the temperature in the room just went up about twenty degrees in five seconds. Riza grabbed his hand. Dean put his hand on her shoulder.

"Why don't we go sit down…"

It was about then that Jean wished that this hospital, regardless of how rundown or unqualified he thought it was, wasn't strictly non-smoking.

_--x--_

_If you ever fall, someone will be there to catch you._

_--x--_

When Mustang awoke, Jean was sitting next to his bed in the visitor's chair, chewing on a dull cigarette, twiddling his thumbs, and looking aimlessly around the windowless, dimly lit room. While the sight of the younger man comforted him, Mustang felt a little guilty that even upon just waking, his thoughts were totally on Edward. As he sat himself up in bed, the motion triggered Jean's attention, and Roy was greeted with a bright smile.

"Hey Chief, have a nice nap?"

"How long was I out?" Roy patted down his bed-mussed hair with one hand while the other rubbed at his eye.

"Ah not long, an hour maybe, including the car ride. Not your fault though. They figured out that there was something in your blood that made you tired, dropped your heart rate dangerously low, too."

_The vial_, Roy thought. _Whatever that liquid was, it was more than just pain inducing._

He reached down to feel at his legs, where he remembered that relentless, burning ache that left him nearly out of action. Bandages were wrapped tightly, one on each thigh.

_Well at least they're still there, and I can still feel_, he figured. _It could be worse._

"How's Edward?"

Jean didn't answer. His blue eyes fell to stare at his fidgeting thumbs.

_Or maybe it can't._

"They uh…they're working on him Roy. It's all gonna work out, don't worry." Jean looked desperate in his attempt to console Mustang, to keep him calm and untroubled. "Just concentrate on yourself; how's everything feel?"

"Like hell, what do you think?" He tried to humor his Lieutenant, but he could only think of Ed. He wanted desperately to go see him, if only to know for sure that…this was it. "But Ed's not…is he…?"

Jean half shrugged.

"I wouldn't call him stabilized. But he's fighting still, for something, that's for damn sure. It just…" He trailed off and a scowl formed across his face. "Roy, I said don't worry. They're doing all they can, there's no point in you going in there now." It appeared as though Jean could read Roy better than Mustang thought he could. "They let Riza stay in the room with him, so he's not alone. You gotta take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else, alright?"

The older man nodded slightly.

"How's Riza doing anyway? And you, you were hurt too, weren't you?" He eyed Havoc's shoulder, hidden now under a new white t-shirt, but the dressing left conspicuous lumps. Jean shrugged again.

"I'm alright, the bullet didn't go deep; just a surface wound for the most part. A few stitches, no big deal. And Riza was pretty much fine 'cept for a few bumps and bruises. With her it's more mental than anything else…she's doing fine though." He nodded towards Roy. "What the hell'd they do to you anyway? And what's with the wrists?"

Roy glanced down at his arms, wrapped in gauze and tape around each hand and up to the middle of his forearms. They felt remarkably well, given the circumstances. He'd almost forgotten about the cuts completely.

"Well...this was my fault in a way."

Jean's eyes squinted. He didn't get it.

"I don't get it."

Mustang actually chuckled a bit.

"I know. Alright, I'll just start from the beginning, because I'm going to have to recount this eventually, I'm sure. Stop me if you don't follow." Jean nodded the way a subordinate does to his superior, regardless of the orders or the circumstance, and Roy raised his eyebrows in Jean's direction. "I'm gonna go through this once, and it could take a while to get through, alright?"

Another nod from the blonde mop of hair. Mustang took a deep breath, and for reasons he didn't know, he couldn't look Jean in the eyes as he started to speak. Maybe it was because he feared the possibility of his own tears, or maybe it was because he couldn't bear to see Havoc concerned for him. Either way, he stared at his gray blankets and white bandages and spoke.

"I was walking up to your house at the usual time when I was hit in my right leg. By the time I realized what happened and tried to cope with the pain, I didn't have the time to react to grab a glove; I didn't have a gun on me. It was foolish, really, but what does it matter. Two guys ran up pretty quickly, tied my wrists and ankles together and tossed me into a trunk.

"It wasn't a long car ride I guess, but it felt a lot longer since I could barely move. When they opened the trunk I was dragged into the building you guys found, which you'll have to explain to me later how the hell you figured that one out." He lifted his eyebrows and looked towards Jean, who smiled weakly and lifted his shoulders. It seemed he didn't quite know either. "Anyway, they stripped me and hung me from the rope around my wrists. The longer I hung there, the deeper the rope burns got."

He was speaking flatly, like he wasn't talking about himself. Like somewhere, someone had gone through this, and maybe it was just a story he'd heard from someone who knew a person who may or may not have been there. That worried Jean, the feeling of disassociation he was sensing from Roy, normally so involved and vivacious and ready to meet anything that came his way. But while Havoc wasn't used to seeing Roy like this, his Colonel still was strong…and that was almost a comfort to the younger man.

"From there, it's pretty obvious. I was stabbed deeply in my left leg; something that I still can't figure out was poured on top of all my wounds. All I'd been told was that it somehow counteracts the body's defense against it. I can't explain the pain that that liquid caused…" His voice trailed off, seemingly lost in the feeling once again. Roy squeezed the blankets in his fists tightly.

"That bastard that did this, his name is Armin Kaitiff. He was a Colonel, but was discharged a year ago and supposedly executed for treason. I don't know what they're playing at, but from what I've looked into up until yesterday, I think I can figure it out."

Jean was lost. _Supposedly_ executed? And looked into what? How did he not know what Mustang was investigating? The question seemed silly though, once he thought about it. Jean had been so concerned with his own problems that he'd deserted Roy and his missions, his needs. He was totally clueless about what the Colonel had been dealing with lately, but that honestly wasn't what disturbed him the most…he had to say something.

"Alright we'll get back to that…but let me get this straight. You're hanging there, shot, stabbed, bleeding, in pain…and you can't move, but somehow you got out of the room and saved our asses." Mustang cracked a smile while Jean continued. "It's not that I doubt you man, but I can't figure that out for the life of me."

Roy put his bandaged wrists out towards Jean.

"When I said I kind of did this to myself, I meant it." He flipped them back and stared at the blood seeping a bit through the clean cloth. "It got to the point where I knew I was either going to die there, and so were you and Riza and…and Edward…or I could try to do something to save us.

"My skin had broken from the rope burns, from the sheer pressure of my body, so I rubbed them together enough that the blood was a decently steady stream from my wrists. I used my blood to make a small transmutation circle on the rope, and even though I couldn't see it, it was effective enough to change the form of the rope and drop me from its hold."

Well that was certainly not what Havoc had expected, but he couldn't say he was entirely surprised, and that showed by the satisfied look on his face

"I should've guessed you'd forced your way out. Here I was thinking they'd made a mistake."

Roy half snickered.

"Well they did, I suppose. When Kaitiff came back into my room, he started rambling about his purpose, and his mission, and his orders. His mistake was that he pissed me off, and then turned his back. While I couldn't really stand once I was down from the ropes, I didn't need to. He's a terrible fighter, Kaitiff is, and I think he was so surprised that I wasn't his prisoner anymore that he didn't know how to react. We fought for a bit, but it was quick; he got me pretty deep in the side-" Roy's hand drifted to his right, where bandages were bulked up through his shirt. "-but eventually I took him down from the ground and grabbed the knife that had my own blood on it."

His eyes faded a bit, his voice dropped, and Havoc suddenly got a sinking feeling for reasons he didn't know.

"I stabbed him. And even though I know it was justified, that he'd kill-…that he'd hurt Edward and myself, and I didn't know what they were doing to you and Riza…it still hurt me to do it." One hand came up to rub at his eyes, and Havoc refused to believe it was brushing away tears, so it was just scratching an itch. Mustang spoke into his hands. "I honestly didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted to stop him, but it was so quick…and then those other men were in the room, and I don't know how I found the strength, but I stood up…and I was able to disarm them…and I had to kill them too."

He lifted his head up from his hands and his distress was obvious, the wetness in his eyes and the redness in his cheeks. Jean fiddled with his shirt and pretended to be fixing his bandaging, so as to avoid Mustang's stare.

"Anyway, I found my pants in the corner and tried to get them on best I could with as quickly as I was trying to move. When I got into the hall, trying to find you guys, I stuck my hand in the pocket looking for my gloves; I found one. It was enough…" He caught Jean's eyes. "I'm sure you know the rest."

After a short silence, Jean let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Mustang shifted in his bed and looked back down at his hands.

"I just…I don't know how I let all this happen."

"Don't blame yourself," Jean pleaded. "You can't be held responsible for everything all the time."

Saddened dark eyes looked deeply into Jean's. And Roy said nothing, he just dropped his head again. Silence hung there for long enough that it would have been uncomfortable for two other people, but for the two of them it wasn't.

Havoc sighed.

"So…" The blonde man ruffled his hair with an idle hand. "What do we do now, boss?"

It didn't take long for him to realize that that's all it really took to get the Colonel back. Make a plan. Look to the future. Save the world, as usual.

Mustang suddenly propped himself up a bit in bed.

"I have to get to a phone, and I have to make a request to have Hughes excused immediately, along with Breda, Fury, and Falman. I need them here," he said sternly.

"But why would they let them go? Isn't this some kind of mand–"

"This was an ambush, Jean, so just forget what you think you know. Those guys at that warehouse were all ex-military, and all reported as executed for whatever reason. Armin Kaitiff was a lying son-of-a-bitch that was convicted for treason, sentenced to death, and yet still _somehow _alive enough to land me in the hospital. There's been far too much information I've come across in the past week and a half that points all towards the same thing.

"There's a force working here much greater than us. I got too close to the truth, and they know that. They watch me."

"They _who_, Roy? You keep saying they and I'm sorry but I just don't see where this is going!" Jean couldn't help that his voice rose.

"The same bastards that tried to kill Maes," Roy half-yelled. "Those homunculi have gotten into The State."

There was a commotion out in the hall then, and the door was thrown open quickly and Riza entered.

"Jean, quick, Edward's gone- Colonel! You're awake!"

She straightened up quickly, saluted, and Mustang's eyes widened.

"What about Edward?" he growled.

Riza glanced toward Havoc.

"Uh…no, he just…"

Her eyes searched for an answer.

"_What about Edward, Riza _ Mustang's voice rose, and he shifted in his bed, trying to sling his bandaged legs over the side. Jean rose to stop him.

"What happened?" he asked her calmly as he could as he put his hand on Mustang's shoulder, causing the man to pause for a moment, his chest already rising and falling quickly.

"He's…" she stuttered, "…he's gone into cardiac arrest, I just wanted you to- Colonel, no!"

Mustang pushed Havoc's hand off of him forcefully, sending the Lieutenant off balance enough to give him the time to swing his legs down and try to stand. He got only one step forward before falling down onto his hands and knees.

"Dammit Roy!" Jean yelled, and he bent down to help Mustang up.

"Get off me!" he screamed, and he batted Havoc's hands away…but Jean persisted, forcing the older man into his arms, pressed against his chest.

"Roy come on! Going in there isn't going to change anything!"

"_I said get off of me!!_"

Mustang's elbow drove into Jean's chest causing him to cough deeply, but he kept his tight hold around the smaller man writhing in front of him. He looked up towards the door, where Riza stood frozen in panic or shock or probably both.

"Riza, get back in there and find out what the hell is going on!" Jean bellowed. She nodded and was out the door.

"I'M COMING WITH YOU!" Mustang's yell after her was deep and throaty, desperate and gut-wrenching.

"Mustang! Stop!"

Havoc used the leverage of his much larger body to pull the Colonel to a sitting position between his legs, but the man still squirmed frantically, trying to escape.

"I HAVE TO SEE HIM!!"

"Come on man, I'm begging here!" Havoc buried his head into the older man's back, finding it increasingly difficult to not just release him…let him be where he knew he would want to be if situations were swapped.

Mustang's head dropped suddenly; realizing Hawkeye had gone, his screaming was for naught.

"I won't…" he stammered in between sobs, "…let him…go…"

"Roy," Jean whined, his head still in Mustang's back, arms still wrapped around his shaking body. "Please…just stop."

And he did stop yelling. But he didn't stop crying.


	15. Being Let Down

It felt to Jean like nothing had ever been as difficult as it was to get Roy back up onto his feet and sit him onto the bed. The Colonel was like dead weight in Jean's arms, and once he flopped down onto the stiff mattress, Havoc took a seat next to him.

"How're your legs?" Jean asked meekly. Roy just shrugged, wiping his reddened eyes with bandaged hands. "You gotta rest man – Hawkeye'll be back soon and she'll let us know what's going on, ok?"

"I don't think, Havoc," Roy started stiffly, gritting his teeth tightly as he spoke, "that you realize quite how hard it is for me to sit back and not know what's going on. I'm entirely responsible for what's happened, and I'm being kept from a position where I can help."

He looked strangely into Jean's eyes then, and the Lieutenant wanted to go on a rant about how he _did_ know how that felt, how if Roy would sit and think for a second, Jean's reckless and immature behavior is what had gotten them all into this position, about how Roy going in to Ed's room would solve nothing because there was nothing he could do for him anyway…but he decided against it. He tapped his hand lightly on Roy's leg.

"Alright Chief, I get it, I'm gonna go check things out. Sit tight for a while, ok?" As he stood and crossed to the door, Roy's desperate eyes followed him. Jean looked back over his shoulder. "You gonna be alright by yourself?"

By all means, he could have meant physically ok but they both knew otherwise.

Mustang nodded, and Havoc left. He walked down the short hallway to find Riza waiting outside the entrance to the room Edward was in, face pressed up against the small window in the door. He came up behind her and said quietly, "Anything yet?" which made her jump a bit, but she only shook her head, still staring into the room.

"It came out of nowhere, Jean, I don't understand it. I was sitting there, and he was fine, or at least stable." She turned around to face him, leaned against the wall, and looked up to the ceiling. "And then out of nowhere the machines started going off, and his body just…I don't know. I was happy Dean was in there because he started working on him immediately, and I ran to get you." She was speaking quickly, and Jean could tell she was nervous, still scared and still searching for what to do…so he just reached out to her, put his hand gently on her crossed arms.

"It's alright Riza, it's ok," he soothed, and this time she walked into his arms for him to hold her.

"I know," she mumbled into his chest, shaking her head slightly. "I know."

They stood there for a moment, listening to each other breathe, and it was calming for some reason – for both of them. Jean rested his chin on her head, she kept her grip on his shirt, and for some reason, Jean didn't have the slightest inclination to say anything. It just felt like everything had been fixed.

"How's the Colonel?" she suddenly asked quietly, still talking into Jean's chest. He shrugged.

"I didn't want to leave him alone, but he's alright. I actually should head back, I just wanted to check…" He pushed Riza away from him slightly, and she let him go.

"Right, of course." She stood back and instinctively brushed off her shirt that wasn't dirty the way she always did when trying to gather herself. "I'll wait here."

Havoc looked at her differently then, as she stood at attention, awaiting orders from him or from Mustang or someone, and he cocked his head to one side. With a nod, he gestured down the hall, where Roy's room was.

"Why don't you go sit with him for a while? I can wait here to see what they say." Her whole body loosened up, a softened, relieved expression crossed her face. Jean smiled. "Go – I wanna make sure Roy has someone there, in case he needs anything. Just don't let him try to stand, or do anything crazy –"

Quicker than Jean could process, Riza came close to him, fisted her hands in his shirt, got on her toes and kissed him hard. The feeling he got was one of those things that he realized there are no words for, so he didn't try to think them.

There was a light cough, and Jean opened his eyes to see Dr. Pase, fiddling with his mask and closing the door to Ed's room as he tried to look inconspicuous. Riza released her grip on Jean's shirt and lips and spun around, the terrified look returning to her face.

"I guess I've just got bad timing with you two, don't I?" Pase forced an uncomfortable laugh, but it turned into another small cough. He pulled the cap off his head, revealing what Jean already knew was hair almost exactly like his – dirty, blonde, and unruly.

"How is he?" Riza asked, almost begging.

There was a certain hopefulness in her voice that worried Havoc. He was a firm believer in never getting your hopes up. It nearly always leads to being let down.

_--x--  
_

Roy sat in his room by himself, but he felt pretty certain that even if he'd had company he still would have felt alone. He idly picked at the dressing on his wrists, made a fist, relaxed, touched the thumb of each hand to the tip of each finger. Yep. They were working.

Sitting on the end of the bed where Jean had left him, Roy poked at his legs hidden under thin pants and thick bandages. The feeling was there, and they ached from his failed attempt to walk. He wiggled his toes just to be sure everything was working properly, and it was…so why, then, could he not stand?

Grasping the edge of the mattress behind him, he tentatively placed one foot on the tile floor. Regardless of the pain he felt upon putting half his weight down on his legs, Roy pressed on. Sitting in that room was doing no good to anyone, he figured; he had to get to Edward, he had to get to a telephone. So he put more pressure down, gritted his teeth hard as he grunted, and after a moment he let go of the bed.

He stood.

And his chest was heaving as he felt like he was going to bite right through his bottom jaw, but he stood.

Using the bed as a crutch to stabilize himself for as long as he could, he shuffled along, making his way towards the door. When he looked both ways down the hallway, he noticed three figures almost to the very end on his right. From where he stood it almost looked like Riza and – God forbid – two Havocs, but after a moment he recognized the other figure as Dean Pase. He was speaking to Riza and Jean, who stood close, his arm around her waist. Pase looked nervous, scratching at his head the way Roy had seen him do every time he delivered bad news.

Every muscle in Mustang's body tightened. He wanted desperately to go to them and hear for himself…but he didn't. He turned left out of his room after taking a deep breath, and shuffled as quickly and quietly as he could toward the front desk. Pase's deep voice was still a murmur behind him, but he ignored the urge to turn back as he pushed through the double doors.

Kelley sat at the desk, and her head snapped up as Roy walked in.

"Colonel Mustang!" she nearly yelled. "You shouldn't be walking, Sir!"

She stood up quickly from her chair, tossing her papers aside. Roy limped to the counter and braced himself on it.

"I need the phone, Kelley," he said calmly. She stopped and stood up straight, looking at him with the second-guessing glare he knew so well from her. She put her hand on her hip.

"For _what _, Roy? You should be resting for Pete's sake!"

Wondering how she could go from calling him Sir to giving him attitude so quickly, Roy almost laughed, but he cringed from the pain and bent over, propped himself up on his elbow leaning on the counter.

"The telephone Kelley, please," he stammered.

She moved quickly then, pulling the phone out from under the counter-top and placing it where Roy could reach it as she mumbled, "…don't know why you do this stuff…putting me in positions like this…"

"Thank you," he grimaced as he turned the dial. She looked at him with sympathetic eyes that made him uncomfortable.

A moment passed, and suddenly Roy's face became hard.

"Connection please," he spoke into the receiver, "to Northern Military Headquarters, code Charlie, Echo, November, Tango, Romeo. Repeat, Charlie, Echo, November, Tango, Romeo. …Thank you."

Kelley's eyes widened in awe. Roy's expression was stoic, still unchanged and expressionless.

"This is Colonel Roy Mustang, stationed in Central Headquarters," he continued into the phone after a moment, "I need to speak to General Law-…I understand that-…I know he's training-…" Roy's fist clenched tightly, fingers formed into the position to snap, and his face grew red. "_Just put Law on the line you impudent pest, before I find a way to char you through this phone line!"_

Kelley jumped when he yelled, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. He noticed her, and with the receiver turned away from his mouth, said quietly, "Apologies, Kelley. Sometimes yelling is the only way to get things done."

She nodded quickly, a half-scared and half-dumbfound look on her face, and he smirked a bit before returning his attention to the phone.

"General Law, this is Colonel Roy-…oh you knew-…well please, apologize to Grace for my behavior, I certainly didn't mean to make her cry." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, sir…yes, sir…no, sir…"

Kelley watched as his face and fist tightened again; she braced herself for yelling, but it didn't come.

"Yes, sir. I need to request the release of Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Master Sergeant Kain Fury, and Warrant Officer Vato Falman. …Yes I understand that's quite a few requests, but I'm confident that you will find my men are more than competent in- …yes, sir, but this is a matter of security for–"

Kelley's eyes turned to the door as Roy was cut off once again. It opened, and Jean and Riza entered, worried looks on their faces.

"Roy, what the hell are you doing out–" Jean began, but was cut off by Mustang's waving hand.

"Yes, sir," Roy continued louder into the receiver, "Lieutenant Havoc and Lieutenant Hawkeye have been serving Major Elric and me quite well, but due to unforeseen events, I am forced to ask for my men to be excused temporarily and perhaps complete their assessments at a later-"

Jean looked to Kelley strangely, who just shrugged in response to the questioning look. Suddenly, Roy banged his fist onto the counter.

"Forgive my insubordinance, _sir_!" he bellowed. "But I assure you if you would ask our Fuhrer himself, he would grant my request without question! He is already aware of the situation!" Jean and Riza exchanged a tense look. "Now I expect to see my men at Central Headquarters, unaccompanied, in no later than four hours! _Good day, sir!_"

And he slammed the phone down, turning his squinted, almost spiteful eyes to Jean, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Riza clutched onto Jean's hand, and Roy tried to turn himself around to face them properly, but the stress on his legs was finally too much and he staggered, almost fell before Havoc reached out to catch him.

Draping Mustang's arm over his shoulders, Jean bent down and supported Roy's body.

"I got you," he said lowly, shifting Roy's weight.

"I'm fine," Roy muttered between staggered breaths. "Just let me walk."

"You're impossible," Jean snapped as he pulled Roy closer to him, stopped the man from fighting his assistance.

Riza laughed to herself as she walked behind the two of them, limping along down the hall and bickering the whole time about whether or not Roy truly was leaning on Jean, or if Jean was forcing him to do so.

It was oddly comforting to hear that again.

Roy was confused when Jean didn't stop at his room, but kept dragging him down the hall further…and when he realized where they were going his stomach dropped a little. They reached the spot where he had seen Dr. Pase standing with them only a few minutes ago, a closed door looming in front of them. Jean let Roy take his arm down from around the taller man's shoulders, and he stood back from the Colonel for a moment. Riza waited nervously to the side, saying nothing as she brushed her pants off.

A silence settled between the three of them that seemed to ask the question Roy couldn't bear to muster out. Havoc's hands fidgeted, he kicked his toe into the ground and searched in his pocket for where he put his cigarette. With the other hand he scratched at his head, and then started hesitantly.

"The uh…the doctor, Pase…er, yea. Pase. Dr. Pase." His voice cracked and he coughed nervously. "Well yea, he uh, he told us what Ed's official condition is."

Jean swallowed hard; Roy clutched tightly onto the doorframe.

"I don't remember all the medical nonsense…it's something about shock, and hyposomething, and I uh…" His eyes wandered over to Hawkeye. "You know what he was talking about, right?"

She shifted uncomfortably, searched for something to distract her, but in a moment that seemed an epiphany, she snapped to her normal order-following self, stood straighter, and looked Mustang directly in the eyes as she spoke.

"Colonel. Edward is in a level 4 coma, which means he is responding only to pain in a twitching manner, and only in limited cases. His loss of blood volume, both internal and external, has led to what is called hypovoluemic shock, which caused him to go into cardiac arrest. The combination of those two things led to the coma."

She didn't have to go on. Roy already felt like he was going to vomit. He wavered and grabbed onto the wall with both hands.

"Hey, Roy," Jean urged, "You alright?"

Mustang didn't respond, just stared at nothing in front of him.

"Here man, let's sit down." Havoc reached out and grabbed Roy's elbow, pulling the Colonel in to his body. With his spare hand he reached out to the door handle, then paused and looked down at Mustang. "Are you…do you want to see him?"

Roy's blank eyes gazed back at Jean, and he nodded.

Jean took a deep breath, for him and for Roy, glanced over at Riza who still stood awaiting instructions, and opened the door.

The room was fairly dim compared to the one Roy had been in, but it was set up similarly. There were no windows, and the room was small. A few machines beeped regularly, and the little lights that flickered on them were probably a good sign, but in all honesty Jean knew just as much about that as he knew about alchemy. In between the machines and connected to wires and tubes, Edward lay on a bed, covered to his waist by a white sheet.

The skin of his chest and arm that would have been exposed was mostly hidden by bandages; a large dressing covered his automail port and wrapped around his entire torso, while random gauze pads were taped on to protect the gaping wounds Jean knew lay underneath the sterile cloth. He led Roy to the chair that sat to the side of Edward and guided Roy down into it slowly. The Colonel's hands were shaking and so were his eyes as he stared open-mouthed at the man lying in the bed. Ed was pale; his flesh had fallen away from his face until the skin kind of sagged off the bone the way it does on an old man's face, and honestly, Jean wouldn't have even recognized him if he didn't know ahead of time that it was Fullmetal. His stomach made a funny flipping motion, and he couldn't look at Edward anymore, so instead he concentrated on Roy, whose color had drained completely from his skin.

Mustang sat in that chair with a blank look on his face, looking quite sick himself, Jean realized. Once or twice he heard the older man say, "Oh God," but Jean didn't think that was addressed to him. He kind of guessed that Mustang was praying, which he was fairly certain the man had never done, but if there was any time to start…Havoc knew it was now.

Silence hung in the room for a while, so still that it seemed like they could hear each other thinking, but of course that would have made things easier. If either of them knew what the others were thinking, perhaps someone would know what to say…but no one did.

"Go on, Riza," Roy suddenly said in a voice that wasn't much stronger than a whisper, but with a flicker of life in his eyes. "What else."

She fiddled idly with her pockets, her arms pulled in close to her body, back still straight. She was just a soldier, she reminded herself, and she was just reporting to her superior the information that he requested. That's all. She put on her best face, and she coughed a few quick times, just to be sure her voice hadn't failed her like it seemed her emotions had, as her eyes welled up with tears.

"Edward has sustained severe head trauma, and possibly blood poisoning from the liquid put on his wounds. This substance, which they are still trying to track, is also what they believed may have left him unconscious for so long. Regardless, sir, that time was long enough to create a disturbance in the brain. All that, combined with the severe pain and torture," her voice wavered, "worsened the shock, and in turn, the coma...Sir."

And then just like that…she was her again. And Mustang was just him. And her eyes were pleading for this all to change as she sagged her shoulders and tilted her head.

"Roy…I'm sorry. He isn't responding to anyone. He…he doesn't even know we're here."

Mustang sat on the edge of the very uncomfortable chair next to Edward's bed, his head down and his hands together, elbows leaning on his knees. Jean thought for a fleeting moment that it seemed that Roy wanted to reach out and hold Ed's hand that lay near the edge of the bed, and maybe that was true, but he dismissed it.

Mustang nodded slightly a few times, looking to Havoc as if he was answering some question he had asked to himself. He probably was, too, but they couldn't be sure.

"Right," Roy muttered, seemingly to himself because he'd said it so softly. "Well, at least he's alive."

Then he went quiet again…and the flash went down in his eyes. Unsure himself of what could be said, Jean waited in silence, but it started to seem that Roy wasn't going to say anything else. His eyes were on the ceiling and Jean couldn't really tell that he was even breathing. Finally, after far too long, Roy's sullen eyes turned towards him again…very slowly, almost painfully, and that life that was left in them flickered up again.

"He's strong enough to get through this, isn't he?"

Jean put his hand onto Mustang's shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"Of course he is, Chief." Jean's eyes died a little themselves when he realized how desperate Roy was. "I know this is a lot to take in, but like I said before – you gotta take care of yourself before you think about anything else to do alright? I just figured, you know…that you'd want to know exactly what was going on…like you said."

Roy raised one hand up to Havoc's.

"Of course, thank you Jean." He leaned back into the chair, his hand still clasped around the Lieutenant's fingers, and turned his eyes back to Ed, glanced from his face to the machines to the bandages and blood. "I just wish…that there was something I could do to help him."

"I know man, we do too. But I guess Dr. Pase is working on it…he says Ed's still fighting more than he figured anyone else would be, but I guess that's to be expected from the Boss, right?"

Roy half-smiled.

"Right."

And with that Roy _did_ reach out to Edward's hand and place his own bandaged one on top of it. He grasped it tightly, and Jean didn't know then if it was because he hoping in vain for some sort of response out of Ed, or if it was just a comfort to himself.

"I just hope he keeps fighting until I can finish this." The Colonel began to push himself out of his chair, despite Jean's protest. "It's a shame, too," he struggled out, "because we could really use him right now."

Jean was confused, Riza had a puzzled look on her face.

"Sir," she said calmly, "use him for what, exactly?"

Roy was standing now, unsteadily, and holding on to the rail of Ed's bed while he stared into the boy's blank face, but it was of his own free will. Jean honestly just wished he'd sit back down, but he realized at that point that what he'd said to Mustang back in his room had set the man in motion.

"_So…what do we do now Chief?"_

Once he began to formulate a plan, there was no stopping Roy Mustang. Neither gunshots nor stab wounds, torture nor poison, would keep him from moving forward. Jean had almost forgotten that. Roy stood straight, looked Hawkeye directly in the eyes for a moment before glancing back at Edward's sunken face.

"For the war that's about to begin, Lieutenant."

Havoc's chest tightened, and he suddenly realized that he'd forgotten to breathe, and when he tried to take a gasp of air, he made a sort of unintentional choking sound.

"War, Roy?"

"Riza," Mustang started, seeming to ignore Jean entirely, "can you ready the car? I'll finish up here with Kelley. We've got to get going."

Perhaps Riza just knew better than Jean, but she simply gave a curt nod and left the room as Havoc stood with the same incredulous look across his face.

"Roy, what the hell?"

Mustang turned to face him then, a strong and questioning glare in his eyes.

"Lieutenant, at any time at that abandoned building, did you happen to see any of the homunculi, or even a sign of one?"

Jean felt his stomach drop, his heart start to race, and a lump start to form in his throat – the same things he'd felt in the car when he looked into the mirror and saw the unmistakable silhouette of –

"Envy."

Roy gave a knowing nod.

"Then you understand, Jean, that a war has already begun. We're just late to the battle."


End file.
